


Part of Your World

by CometEclipse



Series: Thedas's Fairy Tales [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, Angst, Blow Jobs, Cullen is a Disney Prince, Cullenlingus, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Prince of the Inquisition, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Teasing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, now with art!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 144,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4032958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CometEclipse/pseuds/CometEclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ari'elle had long held a fascination for humans, a love of the things they created. It wasn't until she saved one that she thought she could fall in love with one of them, though. Determined to follow her heart, she made a dangerous deal with the Mage living within the forest, and set out to join the Inquisition.</p><p>A world of Thedas retelling of The Little Mermaid!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of my fairy tale series, and it is entirely separate from any others. This story will not be very canon, but I am going to attempt to make it realistic in the Dragon Age world!
> 
> If you have followed me from The Lion of Skyhold, thank you so much :D You are all lovelies!
> 
> As always, if you want to get in contact with me, leave me a comment, or talk to me over on my [ Tumblr! ](http://cometeclipsewriting.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!

Prequel 

Ari’elle giggled as she chased after the fire bugs. They always disappeared before she could reach them, but she didn’t care. It was all part of the game. They moved through the moss covered trees, flitting up and over roots that she had to climb up on to. They darted beneath the fronds of giant ferns that she crawled beneath. They flew high above her, and she would twirl beneath them, hands raised to the canopy of leaves spreading across the sky. Her tangled ringlets flew in the night air, bare feet sinking into the soft earth, as she spun, uncaring for how dirty she got her frock. 

She was so happy to be allowed out in the night. She and Marron had gotten in trouble over just a silly little prank. All they had done was tie rattle sticks to First’s dreadlocks while he had been asleep. But First had been startled when he woke up, and that in turn spooked their halla. So she and Marron had had to study for the past two days, listening to _hahren_ and Keeper speak for hours at a time. Ari’elle wrinkled her nose in the darkness. She didn’t like history. So much memorization made her fidgety.

The fire bug she was chasing doused his fire and disappeared, and she spun, looking for another to chase. To her left, moonlight streamed through the trees, and she laughed, running headlong to the brightness. She jumped from puddle of light to puddle of light, singing a song and dancing, the silvery moonlight burnishing her pale skin. A large broken tree lay on its side, creating a giant hole in the canopy of leaves. Ari spun in circles, staring up at the sky, spinning around so fast the stars all blurred together.

She got dizzy and fell onto her back, giggling as the stars still spun even though she was still. She would probably get in trouble again, sneaking away from the camp. But there was always so much to explore at night! The night birds silent swept in the sky, dark and hidden or bright and powerful. There were other things that you could only see at night, like the giant butterflies with moon iridescent wings, or the little hopping mice that would eat seeds from your hand. Or the giant flowers that opened to the power of the moonlight, their vines racing up trees to find room above the crowded forest floor, smelling sweeter than any other scent she had smelled before.

Ari watched as the stars slowly stopped moving, and she narrowed her eyes in concentration, pouting out her bottom lip as she thought. It was the constellation Fervenial, she thought. And if she lay here long enough, at some point Silentir would come into view. She loved the stars, the brief glimpses to the heavens that she could get. The trees in their forest were big, dense, and old; rarely would they yield their coveted sunlight to those dwelling beneath. But occasionally the clan would find these rare patches, and Ari always eagerly drew First to them, demanding he tell her stories about the world in the sky and of their Gods that rested there. 

First had traveled quite a lot, more than any other in her clan, and he had told her of places that had no trees. That there were places with nothing blocking the sky for miles all around, and at night there were thousands of stars and hundreds of constellations. She couldn’t believe it, but she knew First would never lie. He was too old and stodgy to make up stories; he was, like, thirty. Ari wondered what it would be like to travel to a place where there were no trees, where it never rained, where expanses of water stretched as far as the eye could see. 

Ari’elle had never travel from these woods. Their clan had moved around plenty, following the Keeper’s portents, and she loved it beneath the trees. They had a good, happy life. Yet, sometimes, she yearned to see more, explore more than just the forest. 

A gentle calling of several night birds drew her gaze to a branch at the edge of the clearing. Four white puffs of feathers sat high in the branches above her, ruffling their small wings and shifting their claws. Ari popped up, uncaring of the twigs and dirt that most likely graced her curls. She moved to the base of the tree, and started climbing, eager to meet new friends. She scampered, bare feet digging into the grooves of the bark, dirty fingers grasping limbs and swinging her small body up. A grin broke across her face, eager to see the baby owls. 

She quickly worked her way up the tree, years of experience escaping her lessons and contests with her friends making this second nature. The tree was dense with branches, her tiny size working to her advantage as she weaved her way to the birds. She slowed as she approached them, and they watched her warily, but made no attempt to fly off. Ari thought they were too young to fly yet, so she made an effort to calm her usually energy, attempting not to spook them. She didn’t want them to fall.

When she was close enough to see them, but still a good distance away, she settled herself in. She straddled the branch she was sitting on, and crossed her arms on top of one that was at her chest level, leaning in. The little baby owls stared at her for long minutes, eyes almost unblinking. Ari never wavered, keeping still and breathing slowly. She couldn’t help but swing one leg, though, keeping the movement hidden below her body. Eventually, one spoke up, talking to her in his high little voice. Ari grinned, repeating his call back to him. Soon she was conversing with all of them, and she made up little stories.

The smallest of the bunch lorded it over the others, and was quite bossy. He didn’t like being called small, so they had to call him Key. The other three always grumbled, but their mother made them play nice. She was out getting them fire bugs, Leaf’s favorite. Leaf had a leaf that kept patting on his head as the wind rustled, but he played with it more than tried to make it go away. Grouse was the one who talked to most, and he was always a little sulky about everything; mostly about Key’s superiority. And then there Noble, the peacekeeper of the bunch. He only spoke when the others started to talk over each other, but they all quieted when he did. Ari didn’t know how long they talked, but she didn’t care. So long as mama owl didn’t mind she was here, she could stay until it was really late. 

A laugh filtered through the trees, and Ari turned her head, looking for the source. Her clan was to the North of here, and the sound sounded like it had come from the East. Surely she wasn’t turned around; she could navigate these woods better than any of the other kids. Maybe then it was another clan?

Grouse called to her as she dropped down a few branches, but Key overrode his protests. They all watched as she sank down, scanning through the dense brush. A glow was barely visible, indications of a fire. She strained her ears and eyes, but she was just too far away, her senses not as heightened as a grown-ups. With a glance and final call back up to her new friends, Ari’elle made her way back down to the forest floor, swinging from branch to branch. 

Her bare feet landed silently in the dirt, a perfume of decaying leaves and rich soil rising up as she disturbed the sediment. Ari made her way swiftly in the direction the fire light had been, stopping only once to turn and wave to the four owls watching her still from their perch. Maybe she would find them again tomorrow, and they could talk some more. But she was too curious now.

The voices grew steadily stronger, and Ari slowed, creeping forward. The accents were different, exotic sounding. They did not sound like any elves she knew of. Her heart steadily rose in her throat, excitement bubbling in her. She reached an edge in the brush, knew that they were camping just beyond. She licked her lips, searching around, and latched on a densely covered and squat tree. It would be perfect. 

Ari stealthily climbed, shimmied out on her stomach to the end of one of the sturdy branches, and carefully parted the leaves. In a small clearing, a group of five people sat around the fire. Humans! Ari’s eyes widened, her mouth parted. Humans! In her forest! Her inquisitive eyes ran over the lot, amazement and wonder rolling through her. She had never seen a human before, and now there were five! 

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. There actually was an elf in the group too. Ari gaped, shocked. Keeper made it no secret that humans were not to be trusted, that they treated elves badly or like slaves. She didn’t know what a slave was, but Keeper and First always made it sound like the worst thing. But the other four humans weren’t being mean to the elf. They were joking with him, just like she joked with Marron. Maybe he was different? 

She cocked her head to the side, studying him. He had pointed ears just like her, but he was darker skinned and lighter haired than any elf in her clan. Some of the other clans had dark skin like his; they said it was because they spent time in the sun. Ari’elle’s clan never spent time out from beneath the trees; her skin was much lighter than any of the five companions below her. And his _vallaslin_ was strange, two dark lines curving down the left side of his face. None of the adults in her clan had ever had those markings. Ari couldn’t wait to get her _vallaslin_ … but she wished it wasn’t like his. She didn’t think they meant anything. Or, at least First had never taught her which patron god was paired with those two bold lines. 

She turned her avid gaze to the other humans, soaking in the details. An elderly woman sat with a staff across her lap, hands wrapped around a cup. The staff looked like the ones Keeper and First carried with them. Did humans have magic too? Ari’elle had always thought that they were too stupid to converse with the spirits… maybe she had been wrong?

A man in gleaming armor sat next to another woman in an identical set, looking huge and intimidating. They teased each other, smiling as they bantered. They had strange markings etched into the metal, and Ari was intrigued despite her nervousness. Her clan didn’t have much of the shiny material, what little they had had been traded from other clans. Yet here these humans were, clad in the stuff and wielding sticks of it too. Some of the hunters had daggers of metal, used for skinning and cutting when their traditional ways took too long. But the daggers that these humans had were at least three times the size, and looked much more dangerous.

Ari crept backwards on her branch a little, hiding herself a bit more. She gulped, a little scared now. Would the humans be angry if they found her? The rustle of leaves drew the gaze of the last human, her eyes sharp. She had a bow, but it remained on the ground at her side, unstrung and of no danger. But Ari knew that any archer worth her salt would be able to string it in seconds. Ari was still too slow, too impatient to be any good with hers yet.

She held her breath until the woman turned back to her companions, speaking with the woman with the darker hair. Ari let out her breath slowly. “I am surprised you two could sneak away from your duties for your kingdom,” her voice was musical, sounded almost like a song. “Although maybe your advisors were glad for a rest from Alistair’s terrible jokes,” she teased, shooting a glance at the human man. 

“Hey!” He cried out. Ari presumed that this man’s name was Alistair… but what was an advisor? “My jokes are hilarious!”

As a one, the other four burst into laughter, and the man looked around, a mulish expression on his face. Marron got the same look every time she told him she was a better archer than he was. Which, Ari thought with a smug little smile and shifting preen, was the truth. 

“Did I ever tell the one about a Dwarf, a Qunari, and a mage?” The man leaned forward, eagerly. They groaned in answer, and the woman at his side put her hand on his shoulder. 

“Yes, my love, you have told it,” she gave him a wink, warm smile widening her lips. “Several times, in fact.” He mumbled and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting. Ari’elle stifled a giggle; her new owl friends had done the exact same thing. Especially Grouse. 

“Why don’t you tell us how things are going back in Ferelden?” The older lady suggested. It seemed to be enough of an idea that the man launched into story. They talked of something called the Blight, of the Circle, of other places and things she had never heard of before. Ari’elle couldn’t understand most of what was said, but it was fascinating. They were friendly to each other, all listening and taking turns. Ari rested her chin on her splayed hands crossing over the branch, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to fall asleep, just absorb their stories more.

***

Ari woke up with a start, the cry of a bird screeching loudly above her. She burst up, still straddling the tree, shaking the leaves around her. She froze, afraid she had just revealed her location. Daylight had brightened the forest, bringing an abundance of life out to play, but it all sounded as normal. Carefully, she pulled aside a branch, and looked into the clearing. The group from the night before was gone.

Ari’elle climbed down the tree, and skipped her way into the clearing. The fire was little more than ash’s now, still wet from where they had doused the embers. She noticed flattened areas where they had slept, remnants of a meal. Fascinated, she made her way around, looking at the camp site with excited eyes. There had been four sleeping spots, but five people. One was larger than the others, did those two humans sleep next to each other? Were they bonded? The woman had called him her love, and their armor looked the same, so maybe they had been. A flush of heat few up into her cheeks. Marron said he was going to bond with her when they were old enough. 

A shiny speck in the dirt made her crouch eagerly, greedy hands pulling the small piece clear. Ari moved a dirty thumb across the surface, wiping away some of the earth. A piece of metal had been left behind, and she felt light headed at her find. She cried out in pleasure, brown eyes wide and sparkling. It was round, perfectly spherical, like the wheels of their aravels, but much smaller. A design was raised, some sort of beast with claws, wings, and a beak. She didn’t know what it was, but maybe First would know.

Ari’elle furrowed her brow, and shook her head, her mess of dark curls shifted around her shoulders. No, she wouldn’t ask about it. First would just want to know why she had asked, and she wasn’t the best of liars. He would figure it out, and she would have to show him her treasure. He would probably get mad that she had been so close to humans, and he would take away the shiny circle. It would be her secret; she would keep it hidden, even from Marron. It would be safer that way.

She clenched her small fist around her trophy, and glanced to the sky. It was early still, but late enough that they would all know she was not in camp like she was supposed to be. She heaved a big sigh, her tiny shoulders rising and falling, and then ran north. She was going to have to study for another two days straight with Keeper and First and _hahren_ ; and this time she wouldn’t have Marron to poke when she got bored.


	2. Chapter 2

Twelve or so years later…

Ari’elle sat up in a tree, overlooking the winding path that ran through the forest. The path was smaller than some, definitely more of a side branch, one that was traveled not nearly as often. She hummed softly as she wove together her surprise, a collection of vivid and fragrant flowers and leaves. A fierce grin split across her oval face, giggle burbling up before she suppressed it. _She is going to hate this!_

Ari’elle swung one leg in the air as she leaned back against the bark of the trunk, impatiently waiting. She carefully ran through her catalogue of the contents of the bag tied in the tree beside her, wondering what some of them were, what they did. Since her first find, a coin stamped with the Grey Warden mark she now knew, she had been an avid collector. It wasn’t too hard to find little bits and pieces, but keeping her collection secret was the hard part. 

She had her normal bags in the aravels, but everyone knew what was stored in them. She couldn’t keep them there, they would never remain secret. Over the years, she had gotten good at hiding her collection, though. Ari’elle had always had a knack for finding hidden locations, and she put it to good use. Throughout the forest, she had little stashes of treasures: buckles, coins, bits of leather stamped with strange designs. Occasionally she came across big pieces, and she always carefully considered if she would be able to hide them before gathering them up. 

One time she had found one of those large daggers, a great sword, she now knew it was called. Even though she knew it was risky, she had taken it, hidden it with her other treasures. Marron had been trying to find her, however, and he had inadvertently stumbled across the hiding spot. She still remembered him running hastily into camp, blathering about an ambush the humans were waiting to spring on them. The clan had moved away hastily, and she had never gotten to return for it. After all these years, the forest had probably overtaken the spot, rendering it unrecognizable. Ari’elle still mourned losing that part of her collection; there had been some remarkable things.

“…Today she will fight, to keep her way. She’s a rogue and a thief, and she’ll tempt your fate.”

Ari’elle’s ear twitched as she heard the voice in the distance, and her head whipped up. Her grin turned a little wicked in anticipation, a glint sparked in her large brown eyes. Good thing she had finished with her surprise. 

Ari’elle pressed her stomach down onto the branch she was sitting on, and then crawled quietly further out on the limb, nestling in the leaves. She stopped when she was over the little pathway, positioning herself perfectly. Taking a slow, deep breath, Ari’elle calmed her excitement, made herself quiet and hidden.

“But she was so sharp, and quick with bow- arrows strike like a dragon.” 

A towheaded blond finally came into view, her outfit bright and garish in the green of the forest. She sang at the top of her lungs, daring anyone that overheard her to ‘just try it’. Ari’elle winced at her singing; the woman hadn’t gotten any better, she still sounded like nugs squealing.

The elf sauntered along the lane, singing her song, presumable waiting for Ari’elle. They had a long standing agreement, and Ari’elle had left the signs indicating her clan was nearby. 

Patience, patience, patience… Ari’elle carefully held herself still until Sera was just beneath her branch, and then she let her surprise go.

“Sera was never quite the gentlest girl, her eyes were sharp- ARAGH!” Sera started in shock as the flower circlet dropped onto her head, scattering pollen and petals all over her. Ari’elle clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep her laughter quiet. Sera danced around, brushing at the leaves and brightly colored flowers over her eyes. She cursed up a storm, hopping back and forth before she finally ripped the circlet from her head, and threw it on the ground.

She narrowed her eyes in anger at the now bedraggled headpiece, before she shot her fuming gaze up, looking into the branches. “Ari! Get your elfy arse down here right now!” 

Ari’elle let her hand drop, her laughter finally ringing through the forest. “Your face!” She sputtered out, “Oh, Creators, that was the best!”

“If you don’t show yourself, I am gonna start puncturing trees with arrows,” Sera warned, crossing her arms over her chest. “And it weren’t funny.”

Ari’elle crossed her legs over the limb, and wrapped her hands around it, and let her body rotate with gravity. Her head and shoulders appeared beneath the leaves, upside down, her mass of brown curls dangling down towards the ground in a messy curtain. During her wait, she had woven strands of flowers and leaves into her own hair, spending time on making she looked especially ‘elfy’. She felt the blood running to her face, adding pink to her pale cheeks. “Puncture my tree with arrows?” She teased to her friend, “Oh no! What would the Creators say?!”

Sera stuck up her hand, revealing one of the rude gestures she had taught Ari’elle many years ago. “That’s what I would say to them. Now get down here! I need to pummel you.” Ari’elle just grinned for a moment, enjoying the tangled greenery still in Sera’s sloppily shorn hair, the puff of petals circling her. “I’m warning you…” Sera grumbled.

“Fine fine!” Ari’elle laughed, “Just give me a moment.” She rocked her body back up, feeling the blood gradually drain from her head. She darted back to her stashed bow and quiver, swinging them into place on her back, then untied her small collection bag. She dropped quietly to the ground, her bare feet sinking into the leaves. “I found some remarkable things!” She turned eagerly. 

A burst of half decaying leaves and dirt exploded on her head, and she squeaked. She wiped the dirt from her face, laughing with Sera as the other elf got her revenge. They spent a couple minutes giggling, before starting up their typical greeting ritual.

They both smoothed their faces into lines of aggression, crossing their arms over their chest and widening their stance. “Elfy Dalish.” Sera sneered.

“Pretend Human,” Ari’elle countered just as scathingly, but she had to press her lips together to prevent the smile from breaking out. “What are you doing in my woods?”

“Ain’t yours. Ain’t anyone’s. It’s woods. I can be where I want.”

They stared at each other for a moment before she let the smile shine through, and stepped forward, arm extended. They clasped forearms in affectionate greeting. “It’s been a while, yeah?” Sera stated. “Haven’t seen you around here for a long time.”

They moved off the path, sinking to the ground and leaning against the trunk of the tree Ari’elle had climbed. She sighed, positioning her bow, “Our new Keeper kept us away for as long as possible. He said that there is something wrong; when he walked the Fade he didn’t want to come. He said it was too close.”

Sera nodded gravely. “Bet it’s the friggin’ Breach.”

Ari’elle cocked her head to the side, confused. “What’s a Breach?”

“It’s a creepy-as-shite glowy green hole in the sky. People say it leads directly to the Fade, and demons are pouring out of it.” Sera shuddered in reaction, genuine fear shining in her eyes. Ari’elle’s mouth parted slightly; she had never seen Sera scared. The city elf was tough, brash and loud, unafraid of anything. Things must be serious to illicit this reaction. “And they are saying there are these little mini Breaches opening on the ground, where strange shite is going on around them. And all the bigwigs are just runnin around, pointing fingers. They ain’t helping nobody.”

Ari took a second to digest the information, but Sera kept pushing on. “Folks can’t do anything when one opens up. They just scream, run away, but it’s their homes. Rich folk can move away, but if the farmers do, then they just starve to death on the streets. Which is why I joined the Inquisition!” Sera puffed out her chest, looking as pleased as a fennec when it was able to steal food from the campfire.

“What’s an Inquisition?” Ari’elle wrapped one of her brunette curls around her finger, absent-mindedly playing with the white owl feather Key had left her sometime in the night that she had knotted in. 

“It isn’t a something; it’s a group of people!” Sera moved around her bow, shifting in the brush. “Little people who were tired of doing nothing, now banded together to make a difference. Leader used to be some high-up metal breeches, a Templar of somewhere. But he gave up being an almost big cheese; grew up as a farmer too, family still is, from what I hear. He ain’t too bad, I suppose. Still a little stuck-up in the nose, but he tries. Which is more than any other rich tit does.”

“Is that where you are going? Back to the Inquisition?”

“Nah, not yet. I am patrolling now, looking for more of those rifts. Just cause I am an elf, they think I know forests.” Sera made a disgusting noise, and Ari’elle laughed. Sera know forests? She had been lost when Ari’elle had found her the first time. “Whaa? I am better at it now!” Sera protested. Sera had been completely backwards in her directions; last time they had met she had been just as clueless.

“How many times did you get lost this patrol?” She teased, flicking a finger along one of the little twigs still caught in her hair. Sera reached up quickly, scrubbed her fingers into the mess, flicking out any remaining petals and leaves. A peppering of greenery drifted down around her, and Ari’elle had to press her lips together again. Sera was just too easy to pinch at.

“Anyways,” Sera said in an exaggerated voice, “I brought you another book.” 

Ari’elle bounced in delight, “Oh, did you really?!” She clapped her hands together once, before she reached for her own pack, opening the strings and rooting around inside. Too much brushed against her fingers, and she impatiently pulled the pack to the side, tenderly pulling out all that lay within. Two books were mixed in with a jumble of assorted seed pods, a piece of wood she liked, shiny obsidian the clan could make into a dagger, and some of her new treasures. 

“Here,” Sera turned, handing her a thick tomb. Ari’elle reverently reached for the book, before stopping abruptly. Her fingers were dirty, a typical occurrence for her, but she didn’t want to damage the book before she had gotten a chance to work through it. She scrubbed her hands down her leather pants, working to wipe away most of the grime. Sera impatiently waited for a second, before dropping it in her lap. 

“History of Andrastian: The Founding and Spread of The Chantry,” Ari’elle slowly worded her way through the title, fumbling slightly on Andrastian. Sera corrected her, letting her know the proper way to sound out the foreign word. “It is so big,” she wondered, leafing gently through the pages. There must be over three hundred; by far the largest book she had been given.

Sera shrugged, “You asked. And this will be harder for you. You said make it challenging,” she arched her eyebrows at Ari’elle as she still leaned over the book. Sera was an indifferent teacher, but Ari’elle had been determined to learn to read. Elven knowledge was passed down orally, and Ari’elle thought that perhaps that was the reason they knew so little of their own history. But humans wrote everything down, stories from so long ago captured in physical form. 

When she had first met Sera, the young city elf had made no attempt to cover her dislike. She had been rude, dismissive, and aggressive. But Ari’elle had chipped away at her, too curious to let such an opportunity pass her by. She had asked question after question, rejoicing whenever Sera answered one, then would immediately ask another five. She still had been ‘too elfy’, but her genuine interest in humans, cities, and things beyond the forest, that Sera had eventually given in and had become her educator of sorts.

The books had opened up a new world to Ari’elle, but she still had so many questions. The interest in the Chantry was one that had bloomed from Sera’s complete obliviousness to the Creators. She had explained that elves were wrong; that the Maker had created the world and all creatures in it. So, naturally, Ari’elle had asked far too many questions for Sera to answer, and she had had to content herself with not knowing. However, this book could help. She closed the leather cover, resting a hand over it. She couldn’t wait to dig into it.

She gathered up her other two books, one an early children’s reader, the other a book of tales, and carefully placed them to the side. Sera’s visits were never for very long anymore, partly because Marron always came looking for her, so she didn’t want to waste any time. “Let me show you my new finds!” Ari’elle sifted through the contents of her bag, pulling out the largest object she had found… and possibly the strangest. 

“What’s this? And what’s it used for?” Ari’elle handed the item to Sera. It had a handle made of wood, with strands of thin wire coming from the handle, curving up and then back down. There was space between the wires, but they loosely interlocked at the top. Ari’elle had never seen anything like it before.

Sera pressed her lips together. “It’s a whisk.” She sounded unimpressed… many of Ari’elle’s treasures seemed to make Sera roll her eyes. “People use it for cooking.” 

Ari’elle grabbed it back, crowing, “For cooking! How does it work? What does it make?” She turned it this way and that, trying to picture what Sera was talking about.

A long-suffering sigh pushed from Sera’s lips. “You move it fast in liquid and it makes things fluffy. Or mixed. Can make lots of things, I guess. But bakers use it all the time.”

“What’s a baker?” Ari’elle knew she pestered Sera with her questions, but she knew so little of the human world. Every time they spoke, something wonderful came up.

“They make cakes, cookies, that sort of thing.” When Ari’elle opened her lips to ask more questions, Sera rushed in, cutting off her words. “Those are sweet things; things for arseholes to nibble on as they get fat and lazy, making others work for them. Pride cookies,” she mumbled, clearly not happy with the direction the questions were going.

Ari’elle ran her fingers along the wires, feeling them vibrate. It was so fascinating. She placed it inside her pack, and then reached for another. “And what’s this?” She picked up the little clear bottle, watching as the red liquid inside swished around, the cap preventing any from escaping. She had wanted to open it, but she hadn’t dared. It was one of the prettiest things she had ever found. “Why can I see through it?”

“That’s glass, you dummy. Glass is always clear. ‘Cept when it’s colored. And no, I don’t know how it is made. Just is.” Sera took the bottle from her, working the cap off carefully. Ari’elle held her breath, hoping that she didn’t lose any of it. Sera removed the top with a popping sound and then sniffed it. “Yep, health potion. Smell the elfroot?” She held the bottle for her, and Ari’elle leaned closer, breathing in. The subtle scent of the herb rose from the concoction, and she felt the typical little kick that elfroot provided.

“What does a health potion do?” She asked, tapping one of her nails against the glass.

“If you are hurt, you drink this, and you get better. Not right away, but it helps. Pretty valuable stuff too. Where did you find it? And don’t you elfy guys collect elfroot? What do you use it for if not in a potion?” Sera scoffed at her, working the stopper back into the glass container.

“No potions. We make a poultice,” Ari’elle murmured, distracted by the thought of healing from the drinking. “Found it next to an abandoned cart. Wonder how it got there.” 

“Well, keep it with you. If you get hurt when you are hunting, you can use this. Just… be careful.” Sera muttered, disguising her concern. 

Ari’elle smiled at her friend, “I will.” Sera wasn’t so good with emotions and the like. Ari’elle thought she had been hurt by someone once; now she was very keen to keep most people away. “Should I tell you about Marron’s further attempts to win me?” 

Sera perked up at the words. “He still an arse hat?” She leaned forward, sorting through the other treasures Ari’elle had laid out, briefly explaining them. Mostly pieces from outfits, some coins, a buckle, and one arm bracer. 

“Yes,” Ari’elle sighed, “He keeps trying to get me to agree to bond with him.” She shifted restlessly. “He ignores everything I say.”

“You are ‘destined for grand things’!” Sera intoned, reciting what Ari’elle had told her before. “He thinks that means his ‘grand elfy thing’” Sera laughed uproariously at her own dirty joke. 

Ari’elle laughed too, but she was distracted. Keeper Solas had told her that line just before she had received her _vallaslin_. He had meditated, seeking signs of her future and who her patron god would be. When he had surfaced, however, he had looked at her strangely. “I see Andruil, goddess of the Hunt. But I did not see her customary markings. Yours shall be different. You are not meant to be just a hunter, Da’len. May she guide your path as you find your future.” 

Her _vallaslin_ was indeed different from the others, starker and more barren. She worried the thin markings on her lower lip. She had Andruil’s arrow. The feathers were inked on her chin and lower lip, a line on the upper and to the base of her nose. Then it started again on the bridge of her nose, with the arrow point reaching up to almost her hairline. But she was missing the lines of the bow. Never had she heard of any elf with only the arrow. Keeper had said that it represented a singular purpose… but what good was an arrow with no bow? 

“Yes. Grand things,” She murmured, gathering her things back into her pack carefully. “I wonder when those things will start.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Da’len, come here for a moment.” Keeper spoke into the night, halting Ari’elle’s rush to leave as she strapped her bow and quiver in place. Inwardly she groaned, but she pasted a smile on her face, turning to head to where he stood by his fire. At least Marron wouldn’t approach her while she spoke with Keeper, not unless he was invited.

“Yes, Keeper?” Ari’elle clasped her hands behind her back, trying to look demure. He would never believe it, but she could try. She pressed her lips together, attempting to stop the spread of the smile that always tried to break through whenever she saw him. Or, more specifically, his now bald head. He still regarded her with barely concealed suspicion. It wasn’t her fault that the honeycomb had fallen onto him and he had had to cut all his dreads off because the sticky substance would not come out. She had thought that it would be Marron who would follow her. Besides, he should have seen the trap rigged up. It was very much not her fault.

“Where do you go this evening? It grows dark soon.” His flickered over her face, tracing the delicate lines he had inked there. It seemed every time they talked, he looked for that spark of greatness he suspected of her. She shifted in place, uncomfortable with the attention. He thought she would do some great thing for the Elvhan… she always wondered what he would do if he found out her interest in the humans. Banish her?

“Just out to collect seeds. Some of the night flowers have reached time.” While not quite true, no one knew the night species as well as she did. She had spent much longer than any other clansman exploring the forests just for the sake of exploring. While she was officially a hunter, she didn’t spend much time tracking. She wasn’t quite sure why she got away with it all these years, but no one had scolded her too much for it. She did, however, always collect seeds and plant those that would be useful around their more permanent sites. The healers appreciated it, so she supposed that was her claim. Perhaps everyone still gave her a pass due to her supposed destiny.

“Very well, child.” Solas narrowed his eyes, cutting glances to something behind her. “No longer a child, anymore, I should say.” She felt her stomach sink, knowing what words he would speak next. “As an adult, we have a duty to the Elvhan. We no longer have our immortality; our numbers dwindle. We have a responsibility to bond, to preserve the old ways and keep our clans alive.”

Ari’elle shifted, hands now in fists, lips pressed together. She looked down, her tangle of curls draping forward, covering her face. Without looking, she knew Keeper was frowning at her reaction. “Da’len. Marron favors you. He is good; strong and intelligent. You could be happy together.” 

That stood in silence for several moments, Ari’elle unwilling to speak of it. How could she convey what she felt? How she had this feeling of longing for something she didn’t know? How, though she loved her people and her clan, she wanted more? “Ir abelas.” She finally whispered. _I am sorry._

Keeper sighed, “Consider it some more. You never know what you may think later.” Ari’elle nodded her head, but knew in her soul that she wouldn’t. She had had this pull in her for as long as she could remember, a feeling that she was not meant for what her family did. It is what made her run through the trees, explore by herself, see things with different views than the clan. No one else ever questioned anything, they always did as they were told; the truth was always just what the _hahren_ said it was.

She glanced around her, seeing if Marron still followed her. The elf stood with his back to her, conversing with another. No doubt giving her and Keeper the privacy he thought they deserved. She quickly darted into the night shadows, slipping from camp, breathing a sigh of relief at escaping.

She felt guilty, as she always did, running from Marron. He was indeed a good male, and occasionally a good friend. But he had known since they were children that he wanted to be bonded with her. When she had been young and foolish she had dreamed that too. But as she grew, she realized it really meant to bond with someone. She didn’t want his attentions, didn’t want to follow in her people’s footsteps. Now she spent as much time away as possible, avoiding his courting and the clan’s ever increasing gaze. She kept hoping one of the other females would catch his eye, but he was too stubborn. 

The further Ari’elle drew from camp, the more relaxed she became, until she was humming and her steps became more playful. The moon was bright, the clouds far above the canopy finally departing. When she had left Sera two days ago, rain had started up, blocking the sky and making everything dark. Now she had the opportunity to bask in the filtered moonlight, she was taking it. Her favorite flowers would be open tonight and she was excited to breath in their sweet scent.

High above her a night bird called, gently drawing her attention. She immediately answered back, looking for her friend. A silent slash of white showed her where one of the owls flew, landing on a branch above her head. Leaf, the most playful of her friends, cocked his head to the side, hooting down at her. She smiled, and continued on her way, knowing he would follow her. 

She ran through the underbrush, playing an advancing game with Leaf. She darted forward, only to be overtaken by his faster flight, then catching up to where he sat and overtaking him. Since that fateful night all those years ago, her owl friends had followed her through the clan’s many wanderings. She never treated them as anything but what they were: wild animals that had, for some reason, taken a liking to her. They brought her feathers, sometimes dead little animals. She rarely saw them together, and sometimes she wouldn’t see one for days at a time, but somehow they always found her again.

At length, Ari’elle finally broke through to the little clearing she had been aiming for. She closed her eyes, drinking deep the beautiful fragrance that indicated the Moon Flower was in bloom. A happy smile split her lips, and she jumped excitedly, dashing for the vines that crept up the large tree. She pulled her bow off, depositing it at the base of the tree, plunking her quiver next to it, and leaned in to bury her face in one of the large flowers. Pearly white blossoms spread open, petals from a single flower covering all her face as she breathed in its unique scent. She crawled up the tree, settling onto a branch, and carefully picked vine and flower.

_“Elgara vallas, da'len_  
_Melava somniar_  
_Mala tara aravas_  
_ma'desen melar_

_Iras ma ghilas, da'len_  
_Ara ma'nedan ashir_  
_Dirthara lothlenan'as_  
_Bal emma mala dir_

_Tel'enfenim, da'len_  
_Irassal ma ghilas_  
_Ma garas mir renan_  
_Ara ma'athlan vhenas_  
_Ara ma'athlan vhenas”_

Ari’elle sang the lullaby as she wove the large flowers into her curls, savoring the peace she felt. Leaf hopped on his perch, watching her with his wide and intelligent eyes, head tilted at her song. In this secluded enclave, things were calm. Outside it, however, there was a snap of expectancy. 

***

Ari’elle was dozing, content to stay in the little glen all night, when Leaf hooted right at her ear. She startled awake, almost falling off the low branch, grabbing the bark with her finger nails. She gave a shaky little laugh as her heart pounded, and breathed sharply for a few seconds. Leaf flew across the clearing, away from her and into the darkness, and she glared up at his disappearing snowy tail feathers. That had been so uncalled for.

A sound made her ears twitch, and she turned her head towards the noise, brows furrowed in confusion. Slowing her breaths, she listened harder. Some distance away, she could hear the faint din of shouts and a strange screaming noise. Her heart leapt in her throat, and she dropped from her perch. 

She strapped her quiver on, but pulled an arrow and held both it and her bow ready in her hand. Ari’elle knew that the clans were gathering for an _Arlathvhen_ ; another clan could be in trouble, and she had to help. Keeping low to the ground, she ran as fast as she could while keeping her bare footsteps quiet. The sounds of shouting became louder, guiding her. Beneath the noise she could now make out the constant rumbling of a river. Another of those strange screams rose in the night, and she shivered, an eerie tingle shooting up and down her spine.

Ari’elle slowed as she got closer, confusion taking priority as clarity began to emerge. The shouts seemed to come from only a few, the tones ringing with command, and a chorus of voices would reply all at once. And the accents were strange, not any of the clans she knew. Ari’elle heard the sudden increase in the river roar, and dropped to a low crouch, pushing her way through the brush. She must be coming to a ravine, the sound echoing against stone, and she was now close enough to hear it. Dropping fully onto her stomach, she crawled on her elbows the last few feet, until she was able to see through to the edge.

With her hand, she pushed the short twigs aside, and peered at the scene before her. She was indeed at the edge of a ravine, and down a good ways below her the river rushed through, deep and swift. Across an expanse about five times her size, a strange sight awaited her. There was an unearthly glow emanating from what looked to be some sort of crystal hanging in midair. The green light illuminated a strangely desolate area, filled with fighting. Unnatural creatures floated, while different ones looked to be corrupted tree-like beings. The strange screams and shrieks emanated from these creepy beasts.

And Ari’elle saw humans. Her wide eyes darted from each figure to the next, fascinated. There were about seven of them, all moving rapidly around the clearing. Some wielded those great swords and had flat disks of metal. Two had staves, just as Keeper did, and shot bolts of magic to the unnatural creatures. One was shorter than all the others, and he had a strange contraption that fired arrows just as she did, but she didn’t understand how. 

She lay spellbound, in awe. There were humans! In her forest! What were they doing here? What was that strange crystal? What were these twisted forms they were fighting? How had they even found that crystal, way out in the middle of a forest shemlans rarely visited? They all moved with familiarity, obviously having trained, and trained together. She drank in their sight, the first she had seen since all those years ago. 

One of the men took a swipe across his arm, and he cried out in pain, dropping his great sword. Ari’elle shook herself from her marveling daze, and took a closer critical look at the fight playing out before her. The number of strange beings were dwindling, dissolving when killed, but the humans were not looking very well. Several of them appeared to be injured, their movements slow and weak. She lay on her stomach, worrying the lines inked on her bottom lip. Should she stand? Reveal herself to help them?

A flash of light from the floating crystal drew her attention, and she watched as several beams of the green light dove from its height into the ground. A hysterical cry rose from some of the men; obviously that did not bode well for the humans. 

“Inquisition!” _Inquisition?_ Like the group Sera had just joined? Her stomach lurched, and she ran her eyes over the collection, but she didn’t see Sera in the mix. She let out a breath, but it did little to relieve her anxiety.

“Retreat! Aid those who need it, and rendezvous at the camp! I will hold them off.” A voice rang out from a metal covered head, and Ari’elle turned her attention to the man. She thought that his had been the voice she had heard, confident and in command. His metal armor gleamed in the glow of the crystal, with dark fur on his shoulders and down the metal encasing his head that was shaped into the visage of some type of beast. He carried one of those great swords and metal barriers, using both to deadly accuracy.

The patches of light on the ground erupted, bringing forth a new wave of enemies. Ari’elle’s eyes widened in shock, as the human screamed a challenge and ran forward, hiding his body behind the metal. He smashed into the largest cluster, his weapon flashing in a dizzying dance, cutting down his enemies. His friends were pulling back away from the crystal into the forest, supporting the ones that were barely able to move. They worked slowly, and Ari’elle worried that the creatures would chase after them, cut at their exposed backs. Instead, they were all focused on the human, caging him in. 

Ari’elle tensed, her stomach clenching in worry. He was a fierce fighter, unwavering and obviously brave and protective of his friends. He had turned, watching as they all disappeared into the trees. Moments passed, too long standing alone, fighting diligently. He tried to push his way through the converging creatures, follow in their footsteps, but there were just too many of them. They seemed to know where he was trying to go, and they pushed him backwards, up the incline towards the cliff edge.

The hovering yellow creatures stood back a ways, firing off bolts of magic. Every time they hit the man, he jolted, falling back a few steps. He guarded against the strange plant-like creatures as best he could, but he was being inescapably pushed back, unable to make any headway against the mass. 

Ari’elle felt a calm settle over her, and she knew what to do. She rose to her feet, the brush catching on her loose hair. She tossed the tangle back with a shake of her head, flowers still entwined, and notched the arrow she had out. She smoothly drew the string back, thumb to her ear, bow tilted slightly to hold the arrow. Sighting along down the line, she focused her target, and let her arrow fly. It pierced into one of the floating creatures, and it screamed, turning its attention. She stood far away though, hidden in the darkness and across the ravine. She drew another arrow immediately from her quiver, sighting another, and sent it into the night. 

While the human fought on the cliff edge, she drew the attention of as many floating enemies as possible. Five of them now were no longer focused on him, and Ari’elle worked to whittle down the numbers. She didn’t know if she would help, but at least she would give him a fighting chance. 

Three fell beneath her arrows as he fought, his attention focused solely on the four plant-y creatures. She didn’t even know if he noticed he was being aided. She rooted in her quiver, feeling the rapidly diminishing number of arrows she had left, and she swallowed her concern. She would help as long as she could. 

One of the creatures the man in metal was fighting disappeared. Dead and disintegrated? He turned his attention to the others, but she noticed a strange rumbling under his feet. 

“Look out!” Ari’elle shouted, just as the creature burst from below him. The human was knocked backwards, weapons flying to the side. In a strange suspended moment, Ari’elle watched him hurtle backwards in the air, unable to do anything as he landed heavily. His body hit the ground hard in a crunch of sound, and he rolled over himself. He was boneless, doing nothing to stop his backwards momentum. He hurled to the edge of the ravine, then slowly slipped over the side and down to the deadly waters below. 

Ari’elle didn’t think, just acted. She dropped her bow to the brush at her knees, and worked the knot holding her empty quiver in place. It fell from her waist, and she took the last few steps to the edge at a run, pushing off at the last second, and dove in purposefully after the man.


	4. Chapter 4

Ari’elle entered the water seconds after the man had plunged in. Immediately after her entrance, she was swept up in the fast current. It pulled her downstream as she kicked to the surface of the cold water. With a gasp, she broke to the top, gathering her wits together as she pushed her hair from her face. Her eyes darted around, looking for any sign of the man, trying to conserve her energy, treading water to keep herself afloat.

Two lengths ahead of her, something glinted in the water, bumping against the sheer edges of the ravine. She immediately darted forward, pulling herself in long strokes. She presumed it was him, metal armor thankfully revealing his location. Down here it was dark, very little light penetrating. If she lost him now, she would probably never find him again.

Her reaching fingers brushed against sodden fur, and she strained just a little further, grasping at his collar. Luckily it was him, not some mysterious object. With a hand now anchored onto him, she pulled herself closer, wrapping her arms around as much bulk as possible. The river sucked his weight down, and she took a frantic gulp as they both sank below the surface.

Ari’elle kept her eyes open, straining to see in the murky water. She had to keep her sense of direction; it was too easy to misjudge which way was up when being tossed around. She prayed to the Creators as she kicked, struggling to drag them to the surface. Her lungs burned with lack of oxygen, muscles working hard to reach the surface. The river pushed them against the rocks, rolling them across the edge. She felt the sharp jabs of stone bruising her, her leather barely protection, scrapes appearing on her exposed skin. The human would fare better, his metal protecting him. If he still lived.

The natural tumble of the river brought them to the surface, and Ari’elle gasped for breath. With the little time she had, she rolled to her back, dragging the man’s head onto her chest, wrapping her arms under his armpits and interlocking them across his chest. The position was difficult to maintain, his body acting as an anchor, always trying to pull them down. She felt herself tiring, her strength not nearly enough to fight the river for long. But she worked with a desperation, no longer fighting for just his life but her own. 

The water pulled them down again, and she hauled the human upwards, pushing him to the air. She broke through after a few moments, trying to shake the hair from her eyes. The river seemed to be slowing, its violent churning becoming calmer. Ari’elle spent frantic moments looking at their surroundings. The river was widening, the cliff heights becoming less pronounced. She sucked in a breath, and angled their bodies, kicking towards the edge. It was slow work, the river trying to suck them every which way, but if they were going to survive, she needed to get them into a good position. 

Her work paid off as the river took a lazy turn, the water pushing them in the right direction. The cliff sides dropped away quickly now, and the river broadened, became much slower. Ari’elle clenched her teeth, and called on her reserves to kick, a gently sloping shore her destination.

Her feet brushed against the small stones of the river bed, and she felt a huge giddy surge swell in her, hysterical laughter breaking from her. She had made it, she had survived. She didn’t know if the human was alive, but at least she hadn’t paid for her impulse with her life. Her weak kicks gradually turned to slow steps as she walked her ways backwards up the bank, hauling the human with her. His head lolled to the side, his body limp and useless.

She walked backwards with him until she was crouched, hands slipped to just under his arm pits. She strained backwards, feeling every muscle shake in exhaustion. Her hands slipped, fingers deadened with cold and stiff, and the poor man flopped onto his back, head sinking beneath the shallow waters. Quickly lifting his head, Ari’elle almost sobbed, her earlier triumph now dead, and she choked back the tears that rose angrily in her throat. She was so tired, pushed beyond anything she had endured, but she couldn’t just leave him in the water. He would die from the exposure. But maybe he was already past her saving.

She sat in the water beside him, too numb to feel the chill, and she slipped her crossed legs beneath his shoulders. Carefully leaning his head against her hip and thigh, she worked the metal over his head. The fur around his shoulders lifted and fell with the river’s movements, almost making her think that he breathed but she knew it was an illusion. She couldn’t tell beneath the metal piece if his chest moved with life.

Ari’elle shakily drew the snarling visage of the beast from his head, tossing it to the shore. The pale light of the moon through the heavy cover of the trees was barely enough to see him with, but she catalogued what she could. His eyes were closed, mouth slackened. His hair was somewhat light in color and just as sodden as her own was. He didn’t appear to be injured, but she couldn’t be sure.

Ari’elle licked her _vallaslin_ , and cupped her hand gently over his mouth and nose. A faint brush of air cooled the water on her hand, and Ari’elle cried out in relief, dropping her head back on her neck and closed her eyes. He hadn’t died. Somehow, through that whole thing, she had saved him.

Ari’elle held still for long minutes, waiting for her shaking to ease. Exhaustion tugged at her, but she knew they couldn’t stay in the water. She had to at the least pull his weight onto shore. She had had difficulties moving with him while floating; she could only imagine what his sodden dead weight would be like. With a deep breath and a gulp, Ari’elle opened her eyes, a frown of determination moving over her face. She had come this far, she wasn’t going to give up now.

She maneuvered her body, keeping his head up, and repositioned her feet beneath her. She rooted around in his fur covered cloak, finding the openings of his armor. She pushed aside the fur, and positioned her fingers in the curved metal, before she pulled backwards with her thighs. The first heave drew him a good distance, the water aiding her. When his chest was free, however, she had a tougher time of it. Slowly, she heaved and dragged his body up onto the shore.

As soon as his metal covered feet were clear, she slowly lowered him back down, panting with the exertion. In the dim light, she rubbed her cold hands together, shivering. Something else she needed to do. Now that he was free from the cold river, they were in just as much danger from their sodden clothing. 

Ari’elle stumbled her way around the small clearing. She patted her belt, checking for her flint, relieved when she felt it still securely nestled in its special pocket. Her obsidian dagger also remained strapped inside her boot, and she pulled it out. Laboriously, Ari’elle gathered branches and twigs, cutting at anything that blocked her. She could still feel her limbs shaking from fatigue, but now another set of shakes started rattling through her. She told herself it was from the cold, but she knew that she was dazed from the whole ordeal. 

She ignored her trembling as best as possible, but it took her much longer to gather materials than typical. When she had enough, she crouched next to the unconscious human, and started a fire. She turned on her knees, watching him. Fear skittered through her at his stillness, and she hurriedly cupped his face once more, sighing with relief as she felt his gentle breaths.

Ari’elle pushed to her feet, groaning as her body seized. She would be battered black and blue, stiff and uncomfortable in a few hours. But she would be alive. And her human would still be alive, if she could keep him warm enough. 

Ari’elle gathered a large pile of branches, pulling dead ones from the shore and from beneath the trees. She built up the small fire more, then turned. She surveying her human, and knotted her brow. He was still too close to the shore; any surge of water would catch at his feet. So she yanked him further up a bit more, closer to the heat of the fire. It finally had some coals, and she could feel the warmth now on her bare arms. It would take a while to penetrate through her leather and cloth however, and would be true for him as well. 

The brightness of the fire illuminated him, and her eyes returned to his face. With gentle fingers, she tilted his head to the side, towards the light. She leaned closer, gazing at his features with curiosity. This was the closest she had ever been to a human before. Her hair dripped for its sodden tumble over her shoulder, precariously close to hitting his face. She quickly braided it behind her, startled that there were still Moon Flowers in it, albeit looking decidedly worse for wear. 

With her hair out of the way, she scooted closer and leaned down for a better look. His face was broader, squarer than an elves. The firelight burnished his skin to a deeper gold, flickering lovingly along the planes and sparking at the short hairs that grew along his cheeks. There was maturity in the lines of his face, his deep-set eyes, a presence even as he lay unconscious. He must be someone important; he had been barking commands that the others had obeyed without question. His hair was a tangled jumble, darkened with the damp and sticking to his skin. 

Ari’elle gently combed the wet tangle back from his forehead, wishing she had sensation in her fingers. He would be warmer when his hair is dry, she told herself, gently drawing the air and heat through the damp, watching as it curled slightly as it dried. She was fascinated with him, his differences. Ari’elle glanced down his body, appraising him. He was so much larger than she was, broader and taller. His armor and clothing disguised much, but she didn’t doubt his was a warrior’s body. She felt a glow of unfamiliar heat start in her belly and chest, warming her. 

She licked her lips, returning to his face. Her human was handsome, she admitted to herself, her hand slowing its path through his drying hair. Her fingers slipped down his forehead, traced along one of the heavy eyebrows relaxed in sleep. Her fingers followed the human’s proud nose down to full lower lip, before slipping to the side and feeling along an old scar that bisected the top one. Biting at her _vallaslin_ , she gently scrubbed the palm of her hand along the intriguing scruff of hair that graced his jawline. It prickled her sensitive skin, sending tingles of sensation up her arm. _I wonder what color his eyes are._

His brows scrunched, head shifting and pressing into her hand. She jerked away guiltily, but the feeling was immediately wiped away by relief. This was the first reaction he had given since his plummet over the side. Surely that meant he would be alright. She clenched her hands on her knees, watching him carefully. He shifted his big body slightly and shivered before relaxing again. 

Ari’elle carefully rested a hand on the cloth of his shoulder. The fur that would normally by warm was still wet and cold, and it was pushing all around his face and neck. He needed to be rid of it, and anything else that would not dry quickly. With careful hands, she picked up one of his, and gently worked the wet leather glove off. She placed the garment next to the fire, hoping it would dry during the night.

She worked carefully, but as quickly as she dared, removing the other glove, the metal pieces on his arms. The fur was attached to some sort of robe that crossed over his chest and tucked into his belt. With a glance at his sleeping face, she worked at the belt that held it on. Heat rose in her face, more burning up through her body. She felt wicked; undressing him without his permission, without him even knowing it was being done to him. Arielle swallowed as the belt opened, and she peeled the sodden cloth from the metal. 

When it was open, she sat back slightly, puzzled on how she would continue. The metal piece covering his chest looked complicated, so she turned her attention, moving down to his feet. With some difficulty, she removed his wet boots, watching him carefully. Although he moved some in response to the pulling, he never opened his eyes. When his boots were placed next to his gloves, Ari’elle pressed her lips together, staring down at him. He wore leather pants; they would take a while to dry. Blush rising in her cheeks, she decided that he would be alright if he kept those one. She just had to get that wet fur away from his neck, or he wouldn’t warm. 

She knelt next to his chest, looking for the way to take the armor off. In her fatigued state, she definitely couldn’t lift him enough to get the cloak off him by traditional means, so she would have to roll him. Which would be much easier if she could take the armor off. She fumbled along his sides, finding the catches that matched front and back together. Her fingers clumsy, she worked at the buckles, sighing when they gave away. 

With a pulling and pushing motion, she lifted the top half and rolled it over his body, and it fell to his side, away from the fire. She exhaled, pleased that was over with, then looked back to him. Her eyes widened, and she shifted quickly, letting more of the firelight illuminate him. His undershirt was just as wet as everything else, and it clung to his chest, partly transparent. Ari’elle felt that surging heat return, dazed and wide eyes tracing the contours of his body revealed by the wet shirt. He was indeed big; shoulders broad and arms bulging. The width of his shoulders narrowed sleekly down to his trim waist, ridges traveling all down his stomach. He looked as if he were solid muscle; a warrior’s body indeed.

Ari’elle sat staring for long seconds, her mouth dry. She squirmed, unfamiliar feeling building in her, aching to be relieved. No wonder she had a fascinations with humans; hers was gorgeous. She licked her lips, her face blazing with heat. 

Finally, she moved back to where she had been before, attempting to resume her task. She placed her hands on his far arm, trying to be clinical, but she knew she was failing. _He was hard,_ she thought with a little shiver, his muscles solid even when in rest. She pulled him up and into her, shifting him so that he rolled onto her lap. His heat burned through her thighs, singeing her, and her breath grew quicker once more. 

Disquiet rose in her mind. Why was she reacting like this? He was unconscious, possibly injured. She was taking advantage of him. Self-disgust twisted the heat in her belly into something unpleasant, and she mentally snapped herself out of her hazy trance. 

She hurriedly worked the armor piece and cloak from beneath his chest, and carefully settled him onto his back once more. She stood and walked to the far side of the fire, sitting down and wrapping her arms around her knees. Through the flames, she watched as his chest rose and fell, face still turned towards the fire. She could see the steam already rising from the closest long sleeve; the rest of his clothes would follow the drying process

Ari’elle tried to turn her gaze, but it was difficult. She was worried for him, and intrigued beyond anything she had ever experienced before. Even her most prized treasures never captured her like this, never engaged all her senses. 

With a mental shake, she added more wood to the fire, and lay down. She forced her eyes closed, and took several deep breaths. Her exhaustion rushed into her bones, and she was sucked almost immediately into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

A distant calling woke Ari’elle, strange sounds in the forest making her ears twitch. Opening her eyes, she blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar trees above her, the sound of a nearby river. The clan never camped too close to a river.

“Commander!” At the call, memory came rushing back to Ari’elle. She sat with a gasp, twisting to look at her human. The sudden movement made her body scream in protest, and she bit back the groan, instead turning her attention to the large body still prone. He had turned away from the fire at some point in the night. The new position made his shoulders look so broad, tempting her to run her hands over the breadth. Ari’elle puckered her lips, peevishly disappointed that the linen no longer clung to his skin or was see through. 

With a giddy rush to her head, Ari’elle dropped her eyes down to his backside, to the leather cupping it so lovingly. She bit her lip, repressing the giggle that threatened to burst from her. Another part of him that she wouldn’t mind grabbing. His butt looked firm, muscled and tight. A blush rose on her cheeks at the images that flashed through her head, still a little fidgety at ogling him. She had never thought of anyone in such heated ways before… the human was definitely beyond any of her knowledge, his very presence registering with her on a physical scale she couldn’t ignore. 

Quietly, eyes clenched in pain, she stood. Her thighs ached heavily, arms just as weak. She could feel a multitude of bruises across her back, especially along her spine. She had cuts on her arms, a few on her feet and hands. Despite her heavy sleep, she still felt exhausted, drained. She needed food and water and most likely more rest before she felt like herself again.

Wincing with her steps, she crept around her human’s head, watching his face to see if his eyes opened. Warring feelings battled in her chest, hoping he stayed asleep, hoping he woke up. It was easier if he remained asleep; safer. But at the same time, she wanted him to notice her, wanted to talk to him, see what he was like. 

He slept still, lips parted, deep and peaceful breaths moving his chest slowly. With a tentative hand, she reached out and placed her palm on his forehead, measure his temperature. His ordeal could have easily given him a fever, but his skin was cool in the morning air, no hint of elevated heat. She pulled her hand back, frowning. Maybe humans were different, though. Did they get sick the same way elves did? 

She stayed kneeling next to him, matching her breaths with his. In true light, his skin color was lighter than what the firelight revealed last night, but the golden tones were still present. His hair had lightened as it had completely dried, to a pretty blond that was rare in elves, rich with a mixture of brown and honey. The prickly hair covering his cheeks and around his mouth was darker, a curiosity she yearned to discover. Why did he have hair on his cheeks? How had he gotten that scar? Relaxed, she wanted to kiss those sensual lips; she couldn’t image how they would look as he talked. A thrill shot through her at the thought, and she licked her own, trying to picture it.

Marron had kissed her when they had been younger, innocent pecks playacting at being adults. But she had not allowed anything more recently, afraid that Marron would think she wanted more. She was interested, and wanted to experience passion for herself. Some of the courting or bonded couples would kiss while in camp, and she admitted to sneaking glances. She had surreptitiously watched, curious as little brushes of lips turned to lingering movements, which then deepened into caresses. There seemed to be a point that signaled something, and they would slip away, into the woods or an aravel. The basic acts of the intimacies between elves had been explained to her, but she had never known much more than that. Were humans the same? Did they kiss? Did they slip away for private moments with those they loved?

“Commander Cullen!” An accented voice shout out, much closer than it had been previously. She jolted upright with a gasp; when had she leaned so close to her human? She glanced nervously in the direction the shout had come from. The human was now so close she could hear his tromping through the underbrush. Panic grabbed at her, making her stand. The old Keeper had been full of stories of the dangers of humans; apparently they had stuck with her more than she had believed. It never occurred for her to be afraid of her human, but these others were not him.

Ari’elle paused for a second, looking at her human still asleep. His eyebrows scrunched, and he shifted, most likely responding to the voice calling for him. Ari’elle almost stayed were she was, yearning to discover what color his eyes where, to know the sound of his voice when not shouting commands. But she was scared, her supposed courage leaving her with each thudding footstep drawing nearer. 

She turned and dashed away from the coming search party. Hidden by the thick brush, she hesitated and turned. Would they find him? She crouched low, and watched. A chorus of voices was working their way down the bank of the river, calling for Commander and for Cullen. Was that his name? Cullen? Was it his personal name, or his clans? 

“Cullen! Curly!”  
Her human slowly pushed himself up, head hanging loose as he moved his arms, turning as he sat. “Here,” he shouted, his voice scratchy and coarse, too quiet to be heard from very far away. He coughed, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. “I’m over here!” This time his voice carried further, but Ari’elle winced at how rough he sounded. Hopefully he recovered quickly.

“I heard something!” That lilting voice yelled excitedly, “This way!” 

As they drew nearer, Ari’elle felt her spirits fall, unable to stop the emotions from playing over her face. She traced her eyes over her human’s back, the curls brushing his neck and his powerful arms, committing every moment of this encounter to memory. With a heavy heart, she slipped away, feeling as if she was leaving a part of her behind. Somehow, she knew she was never going to be the same.

***

Cullen tried to shake the heavy blankness from his mind, coughing at the rawness in his throat. He scrubbed at his jaw, trying to force his mind to clear. He hated feeling so lost, but as he heard people drawing closer, he couldn’t think of what had happened. He glanced down at himself, confused by what he saw. He was in his undershirt and his pants. His gloves, boots and jacket arranged around a fire. His armor was stacked, the fur on his helm arranged to catch the heat from the embers as well. He was sitting on the dirt and vegetation, just a small ways from a river. How had he gotten here in this state?

Dorian broke through into the forest clearing, concern on his face. Lips pressed together he rushed to where Cullen sat, and knelt next to him. “What happened to you last night?” Dorian asked as he placed a hand on Cullen’s shoulder, and warming heat started spreading through Cullen’s stiff muscles. 

Cullen sighed in relief, relaxing. “Water?” he requested. Dorian wordlessly pulled a flask from his side, passing it. Cullen pulled the top off, and greedily drank the contents, tilting his head back and draining half in long pulls. 

Once he felt more himself, Cullen brought his arm down, sighing. “Right. What happened?” He shifted, watching as more of his men came from the surrounding forest. They all saluted him, smiling at his apparent good health. He returned the salutes with nods, the smiles with his own. Varric gave a jaunty little flick of his fingers as he sauntered into the clearing, his signature nonchalance well in place. 

Dorian quirked an eyebrow at Cullen’s remark, but let the evasion pass for the moment. “We retreated, as you commanded. But when you didn’t return within half an hour, we grew concerned. Some of us went back to the rift with the second shift. We were worried we would find your body.” Dorian stood, leaning down to help Cullen stand. 

With Dorian’s help, Cullen got to his feet, shifting his limbs around, feeling for any missed injuries. He could account for nothing to explain his memory loss, just a general stiffness. “When we got back to the rift, we could only fight the demons that were there. One of the men saw your equipment laying on the cliff edge, then signs of something sliding over. We thought you fell in the river, so we came searching for you.”

Cullen frowned at that, wracking his brain. “I think I did,” he answered slowly. At the very least it would explain some of his current situation. “And I came out of the water here… but I don’t remember starting the fire or removing my equipment.” He clenched his teeth, scrubbing at his neck.

“Don’t think you did Curly,” Varric piped up, having explored the small area and now knelt at the far side of the fire. “Someone slept here.” He stood and came around to the side, glancing at the river, then touching the fur mantle on his jacket. “There are drag marks from the water’s edge to where you slept, and the fur is still damp. Looks like someone may have helped you from the river.”

“So,” Dorian chimed in, amusement barely suppressed. “A mysterious savior pulled you from the raging river, built a romantic fire and removed your wet clothing… and you don’t remember anything?” He interjected heavy skepticism into his voice, and Cullen felt a slight blush rise on his cheeks. 

“No,” he stated firmly. “I don’t remember anything. And only my equipment was removed.”

Dorian’s brows shot upwards, and he pressed his lips together, mustache twitching at the smirk he tried to smooth away. “Your equipment was removed from where exactly?” 

Cullen felt his flush deepen, Dorian’s innuendos making the men chuckle. He cleared his throat, and brought the water to his lips and drank as he tried to stamp out the embarrassed heat on his cheeks. He collected himself, straightening his spine, and passed the flask back to Dorian. He walked to where a faint imprint of a body had flattened the small plants. It was hard to tell anything from it, other than at one point someone had been laying there. He frowned at the scuff marks leading to where he had slept. It had been someone who had been strong enough to drag him, but that was about all the clues he got.

Cullen walked around; working the stiffness from his muscles, then began drilling for answers. “You returned to the rift. And there were still demons?”

Varric nodded, “Yes. And once we killed the ones still there, another batch came out. We had our answer, so we left to come find you.”

“Damn,” Cullen muttered. “There is no end to them. Unless we find some way to close those rifts, we will never defeat the Breach. And more of them just keep popping up.” He shook his head, and a lock of his messy hair fell over his forehead. With a frustrated movement, he brushed his fingers through the curls, away from his face. A flash of memory froze him in place, and he latched onto the fleeting feeling. 

Fingers through his hair. Someone had run gentle fingers through his hair last night. The sensation lingered, the soothing motion staying with him while he slept. He swallowed the frown, confused but not wanting his men to see. Why would someone do that? It was an affectionate thing to do, not that of a random stranger.

Varric’s voice broke through. “We are already spread too thin. At this rate, we will run out of men and resources before we even find all the rifts open currently, not including any others that may open.” Varric crossed his arms over his chest, frowning down at his feet. A pall settled over everyone; they all knew that they were fighting a losing battle. 

Cullen clenched his fists, frustration rising in him. Here he was, the leader of the Inquisition, and he felt that they were doing nothing. While the other world leaders fought each other for power, they were out here fighting and trying with all their might to help the people ravaged by the upheavals. But they were being constantly thwarted, underpowered and understaffed. Leliana and Josephine had an idea to help bring them much needed influence, but he was balking at it, rejecting it for as long as possible. 

He drew in an angry breath, then marched to where his equipment lay. He started clasping pieces on, gearing back up. One of the men, Jim, came forward with his sword and shield, and he strapped them into place. As Cullen turned, his nose brushed the fur, and a slight fragrance brushed his face. He froze once more.

A beautiful, sweet floral perfume rose from the fur, arrowing into him. It was familiar to him, but somehow still new and unique. How was that possible? Unless… he closed his eyes and breathed it in again. Last night. Whoever had helped him last night had smelled like this scent.

A woman? Way out here in the forest? People spoke of the witches that lived out here, apostates that hid from the Circle. Had one of those mages helped him last night, cared for him? 

Cullen furrowed his brow, working through the thought. It would make sense that she would run away then. Anyone cut off from the world would not know that the Circles had fallen, the Chantry in disorder. She would be fearful that she would be immediately taken away from her life here. Cullen’s stomach sank. And she would have been right, if he had been his old self. He pressed his lips together, the familiar feeling of self-disgust curdling his stomach whenever he thought of how he had behaved when he had been a Templar. 

“Curly?” Varric broke his reverie, and he snapped out of it, shaking the unpleasant thoughts from his head. Even though he would like to find and thank the woman who had saved him, there was no time. 

“Back to camp,” he ordered, marching in the direction his soldiers had come from. “We have much we need to work on before nightfall.”


	6. Chapter 6

Ari’elle slipped into camp late that night. She sighed as she settled down on her pallet, blissfully relaxing as many muscles as she could. It had taken her all day to get back, unable to run with her body so battered. She had spent a long time searching down river for a place to cross that wouldn’t involve too much swimming. She had gotten lucky and found a log that had fallen, creating a bridge she had gratefully utilized. Walking all the way back to camp in wet clothes plus a sore and bruised body would have been even worse.

She rolled to her back, wishing she had the energy to change. Her clothes were dry from her adventure last night, but she now felt grimy and uncomfortable. But she would undoubtedly wake someone if she tried, so she just let herself relax.

She had made her way up the far side of the river to retrieve her bow and quiver, and to find her way back. As much as she was uncomfortable with the idea, she hadn’t known exactly where she had been. Since she and her human had followed a pretty linear path, though, and she had been confident she could make her way back. 

When she had smelled the whiff of wood smoke, she had crept to the river’s edge, intent on seeing if their make-shift camp site was still occupied. Though she didn’t want to admit it, she was so eager for another glimpse of her human. Was he resting? Had he been alright? Did his friends find him? Did he wonder about her? She tried to ignore the giddy thoughts, knowing that they would only cause her pain later on.

And she had been disappointed in her hopes; the small clearing had been empty, only a burnt out fire indicating that someone had been there. She had been right about trying not to dream, the crash was something she could have done without. She trudged up the river’s edge following it as it narrowed back into the ravine. She was still shocked at how far they had traveled; amazed that she had kept them alive. She wasn’t that strong of a swimmer, and he had been so heavy. How had she ever kept them both from drowning?

She felt that strange prickle of magic in the air before the forest opened up. The abnormal barren patch on the far side of the river still housed the floating crystal, beings wandering around. She had lowered her protesting body to creep forward in the brush, warily watching them. They milled around almost aimlessly, aggressive with their movements but nothing to vent it on. She hadn’t wanted to be the only target available to them, even on the far side of the river. Those yellow floating ones could shoot magical beams and they may be able to reach her if they stood at the very edge.

Her bow lay back from the cliff drop, sticking up from the bushes she had used for cover. She had slowly made her way forward, feeling her lack of usual mobility as she was not nearly as silent as she typically was. But the strange creatures had never looked her way. Maybe the sound of the river had drowned out any of her sounds. When she reached the position she had stood at, she found her quiver where she had dropped it. With careful movements, she had disengaged her items, held them in her hands and slipped back away.

She had retraced her wild flight, back to the trees where the Moon Flowers were growing. They were closed tight for the afternoon, fragrance hoarded until the night. She had grumbled under her breath as she turned towards camp, looking forward to making a poultice for her bruises and coating herself in it. Maybe she would just roll in it.

Now that she was back, though, she was too tired and it was too late. Come morning maybe Keeper would help her with her cuts. It wasn’t like she could hide them, she had too many. Worried sort that he was, he no doubt would notice and insist on knowing how she had gotten them. _Oh, don’t worry Keeper! I only jumped into a dangerous river to save a shemlan from drowning. He could have already been dead, but I just jumped right in after him! Then I took care of him, made sure he lived, and slept just across a fire from him. But don’t worry, I left before his shemlan warriors got to him!_ Somehow she didn’t think he would take it all that well.

She closed her eyes wearily, too tired to think up an excuse. She wasn’t good at lying, but she could probably give vague enough answers. Enough to satisfy him, she thought as she dropped off to sleep.

Her dreams were a jumble of her treasures, buckles, and coins, bits of metal, tools, swords and books. She detailed each one, seeing it as if it were truly before her, a precise catalogue of what she had found throughout the years. She felt the familiar rush of giddy pleasure, wonder, and awe, making up stories in her head as to their history and how they had come to be found by her. 

After the last one flashed through, her human appeared, standing with his back to her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she ran closer, eager to see him awake. She went to his side, but he turned away, keeping his face hidden. In confusion she tried again, but he just turned with her. She grew desperate, scared for some reason, as she ran in circles, dodging back the other way. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t reach around to his front. There was a barrier too, stopping her from touching him. She called to him, but he never answered, never turned.

Ari’elle opened her eyes, an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. What had that been about? Why had she dreamt that? She sat up, breathing in the fresh morning air, then scrunched her eyes closed and opened them again. What the…

The camp site was clear. The sleeping bodies of her fellow clan members, the aravels, and the campfires, all were gone. She twisted around, sure that her mind was playing tricks on her. Nothing remained. It was as if her clan had never been here, had not been camped for almost a month in this exact spot. She looked to the side, where her patch of plants had just started to push through the dirt. Nothing.

She pushed herself up, and then noticed her hands. The cuts on them were gone. She gawked at her arms, at the smooth skin unmarred by any of the bruises and scrapes that had just been there. She didn’t hurt, completely healed from her ride down the river. Her clothing was pristine, as if she had just washed them and donned them. With uncertainty, she brought her hands to her hair. Her curls had been brushed, the little ringlets arranged in perfect order. She had blossoms of pristine flowers artfully woven through in flawless arrangements. Ari’elle shivered. Everything about her was perfect… and it was nothing like how she was normally.

“Hello?” She called out, stepping from her pallet. She didn’t know if she wanted someone to answer, or dreaded that someone would. As she turned in a slow circle, she saw that her pallet had disappeared, the area now completely empty save her. 

She gulped, turning away quickly. “Is anyone there? Keeper? Marron?” She took small steps, unsure whether to stay in place or to run away. This was not natural.

Hooting behind her made her whip around, and she spied four owls on a limb above her. She broke out with a relieved smile, approaching them rapidly. They might be her owl friends, she thought. Then suddenly, Ari’elle knew they were. Of course they were her friends. She frowned as she approached them… What were their names again? 

As she rushed to them, they all turned as one, and launched themselves into the air. Their wings beat in synchronized rhythm as they flew away from her, feathers gleaming brilliant white when little rays of sunlight hit them. “Wait!” Ari’elle called, running after them. “Don’t go!”

She bolted through the trees, barely taking her eyes off the white owls. She seemed to be on some sort of path, one that winded through the forest, leading deeper and deeper into the woods. Despite moving towards the heart of the woods, the vegetation was thinning out, the area brightening as fewer trees were in the way to block the sunlight.

She suddenly broke through to an enormous clearing. Ari’elle held up a hand to shade her eyes from the sun, blinking away the dazzle. When she could see again, she no longer saw her owl friends. Instead, a very tall person stood with their back to her, dressed in lavish robes. She blinked in confusion, slowly lowering her arm. 

“Hello?” She tentatively called to him, but he didn’t seem to hear her. Instead he raised his hand, and a green bolt of power shot from it. She started, shocked, and she followed the beam upwards. It connected to a crystal just like the one her human had been fighting around. She gaped, watching as the person cracked it and creatures just like she had seen before arose for patches from the ground. With a snap of their other hand, the person made them all disintegrate, killing them with no effort.

Ari’elle gulped, her eyes wide. What power was this? When the creatures had died, the crystal had fractured into this wavy green light, no longer solid. With a flourish of their hand, the person sent another shot of that green light into it. Before her eyes, the thing seemed to scream in protest, and with a yank of their hand, it then vanished altogether. She stared, not knowing if she should be scared or rejoicing.

The mage turned to her, every movement bespoke of power, a heavy weight she felt even from her distance. “Ari’elle.” He said, voice melodic and low. “I have been waiting for you.” The human gazed down at her from his extreme height. His eyes brimmed with ancient knowledge, his features arranged into cool expectation. She knew that look; many of the elders wore it when talking to younger clan members. None of them even came close to achieving it the way this man was. 

She licked her _vallaslin_ , stomach twisting in nervousness. “How… how do you know my name?”

His eyes bore into her own, and she shifted, but couldn’t look away for the hypnotic scrutiny. “I have been awaiting you.” He repeated. “You are summoned to a greater purpose.” His eyes shifted, tracing down the arrow etched on her face.

_My destiny…_ the thought whispered through her mind, but she didn’t speak. “You have felt as if your clan was only half of you, yes?” The mage continued. “You have been fascinated with things outside your existence, hungry for the knowledge beyond.” She swallowed, awed and nervous. How did this mage know these things?

“Are you…” She hesitated, then pushed out the words tumbling through her. “Are you one of the Gods?” It would explain so much. She doubted that he was one of the Creators, but she knew from her talks with Sera that there were other Gods worshipped through the world. She was only just starting to learn about the Chantry, so she wasn’t sure, but perhaps he could be from the Andrastian religion.

A faint smile pulled at his lips, before he smoothed it back into that ancient and distant expression. “I am a God.” He nodded. “And with that enormity, I have a deal to make with you.”

He held out his hand, and in it rested a stone sphere. This had been what had sent out that green beam, making the crystal explode and then close. She flicked her eyes down to it and back to his face. What was the deal?

He watched her for a moment, eyes shrewd. When she finally could take it no more, and was just about to open her mouth to ask, he spoke again. “I would offer you a chance to live amongst the mortals. Amongst the humans you are so fascinated by.” Her mouth dropped open and her she felt her heart stutter and jump. “You would be labeled a hero, be treated with utmost respect and admiration. You would be the answer they seek, all their hopes falling to you.”

A chance to live with the humans? She felt dizzy at the possibility. She would be a hero for them, he said. That meant that they would treat her well, that they would like her and not harm her, right? Warnings of the humans spoke of their ignorance in the ways of the Dalish, but if they accepted her, she could teach them. Excitement started to rise from her stomach, but she tried to think clearly. “How? What would I have to do?” 

The mage moved his hand, waving the sphere. “I can give you power to close the Rifts, just as I did now. All you would need to do is to touch this Orb to receive the Anchor, and all the dreams you have dreamt can come true.”

A vision of her human rose in her mind, clear and sharp, face relaxed as he slept. He had been fighting against the creatures pouring from the crystal, putting himself in mortal danger to make sure his men escaped. She would be able to close it. Would he be pleased if she did? Would he look at her as if she were a hero?

“You said that it would be a deal? What would I have to do for you?”

The mage’s face remained neutral, but there was a shift in his eyes, something she couldn’t distinguish. It made a slight bubble of apprehension puncture through the excitement, and she tried to remain rational. 

“I would expect one boon from you, to be named in the future. If you fail your task, you must return to me and become one of my followers for the course of one year.” 

Her lips parted, questions bubbling. But she knew that she would not get any of them answered. He held the advantage, was offering her a chance to do what she had always dreamed. She could meet up with Sera, join the Inquisition. She would learn more about humans in the span of one day than she would in one year. Maybe she would meet her human again, get to know him. See what color his eyes were, what his laugh sounded like. 

Ari’elle bit her lip, thinking of the downside. She would have to leave her clan, leave behind all she had known. Keeper would hate it; Marron would try to stop her. Dare she just slip away? No, she quickly rejected the though. She didn’t want them thinking she had died. She could always come back, she debated with herself. If she couldn’t handle being among humans, she could always return to the clan. 

This boon she had to complete, it could be anything, she tried to tell herself. And if she failed, she would have to be his follower for one year. What if she hated what she had to do? Giddy excitement at how close her dream was pushed away her concern, though, the prize too great. Whatever it was, she could handle it. 

A chance to make her dreams come true, to find her place in life. “Alright,” Ari’elle burst out. “I will do it!” 

He came towards her, seeming to take no steps as he did. He stopped just before her, offering the Orb. She felt a tingle of awareness skittering up and down her spine. She was changing the course of her future forever. She was finally taking the steps towards fulfilling Keeper’s prophecy.

She slowly raised her hand, feeling the importance of this moment. Her palm hovered for a moment, and the mage spoke, stopping her just before she touched it. “One last thing. You must not tell anyone of our arrangement, or you will have to return to me immediately. This is a requirement.”

Ari’elle nodded solemnly. It was an easy thing to agree to; who would believe this anyways? She turned her attention back to the orb, tracing the lines etched into the stone, and she slowly lowered her hand.

As soon as her palm connected with the cool stone, green light flared around her. She screamed in pain, power ripping up her arm, bouncing through her chest and down her body. It filled her, altered her. Green magic whipped in eddies around her, and her eyes were peeled open, unfocused and distorting everything. Through the whirls, she thought she saw glimpses of twisted flesh and a pulsing red where there had been none before. 

The pain continued, growing and building. She screamed and screamed until she knew nothing.

***

Ari’elle opened her eyes, unaware that she had closed them, body perfectly relaxed and calm. She stood in the dense middle of the forest again, life bustling around her. She blinked, disoriented. Just a bit ahead, she heard her clan, chatting and continuing with daily life, nothing disturbing their routine. A dream? Had it all been a dream? Disappointment shredded through her.

She looked down at her raised hand, completely healed. She slowly turning it over, feeling her heart pound, and saw her palm glowing green.


	7. Chapter 7

Ari’elle didn’t know how much time she spent staring at her now glowing hand, trying to rationalize all that had just happened. It had been a dream, yet somehow it had been real as well. Was that possible? Could things that you dreamt really be true?

It could only have been a dream, now that she thought about it. While extraordinarily realistic, there was no way real life behaved like that. Her whole clan just disappearing in thin air? The owls that she had seen, they were supposed to be her four friends, but when she thought of it they had been generic owls. But she had never questioned it while dreaming. Plus, there was no such thing as perfectly synchronized animals. The way that they had all flapped in faultless time should have clued her into the fact that there was something wrong, but she had never questioned it. The deeper she had gone into the woods, the sparser it had become. In all her travels that had never been the case. Her forest was old; growth large and rampant. She had never seen an opening like the one the human mage had been standing in. Clearings where trees had fallen down were infrequent as it was, entire empty swaths were unheard of. 

Ari’elle frowned, recalling other things. She had not questioned anything. Her, the one who Keeper and the other _hahren_ would frequently sigh over and tell her to stop interrogating them. She was innately curious about things, something that had led her to her interest in humans. And yet, when she should have been delving for more answers, she had actually done very little questioning. 

Closing her eyes, she thought back to the event. How had this human mage gotten to be so tall? In none of her research, any of Sera’s stories, or the few personal experiences she had had with humans had shown humans coming even close to that height. He had been almost twice the size of any she had seen. And how had he gotten that orb? It looked almost… elvhen in origin, and yet a human was carrying it around? 

How had he known so much about her? He had known her name, her secret fears and what dreams she had when she slept. If he was a God, then that would explain it, but now that she was out of that ‘dream’ she didn’t think he was. Not truly. More that he called himself a God. 

A shiver slid down her spine when she thought of the last moments of the encounter. When she had touched the Orb, things had happened so quickly, pain had screamed through her, making it hard to see. Despite that, she thought she had seen him… _change_. Although he had still been incredibly tall, his features had distorted. Where once a normal human face had been, it had become twisted and scared, lip peeled up in a permanent snarl, red crystal-like structures erupting from under his skin and contorting everything around it. Hair had been gone, his robes ripped to accommodate the pulsing red growing from his body as well as his face. Behind her pain, she had felt malevolence rolling from him, a sticky black wrongness that tainted the very air around him.

She had been manipulated; made to see something that was not real, feel things so intensely her reason was overridden. She had tried to fight it, tried to remain at least somewhat logical, but she had been cajoled to not think of it. To focus only on the benefits to her, not of the cost. Of everything that she had seen or heard, she believed that the corrupted form he had shown for but a brief second was the only real truth.

She realized with a start that she still had the flowers in her hair, arranged into perfect order. She gave a shudder, quickly bringing her hands to her curls, combing her fingers through. The smooth strands twisted around her brisk hands, tangling with each other as she scrubbed at her scalp. She sighed as her typical carefree hairstyle returned, some flowers dropping away while others became more entangled. She was more like herself. She felt relief; an unconscious itch humming over her skin was now gone. She hadn’t realized it was there, but now that she was herself again, she felt its absence. It had felt like magic, a barely there feeling that put her on edge. Like a splinter that you couldn’t see but could feel every so often. Had he kept a spell on her? One that had been in place, one she hadn’t been able to detect?

Ari’elle slowly dropped her hands, swallowing hard. She had made a dangerous deal; one that may end up being deadly to her. Would this mark on her hand, the Anchor, do what it was supposed to do? Would she truly be a hero to the Inquisition, be someone they would welcome? Sera worked for them, an elf, so surely they wouldn’t hate her on that principle. Being Dalish may affect things, however. Would she risk it?

She could just stay. Be with her clan, ignore the purpose of the magic in her hand, and then attempt to fulfill the boon the being would ask of her. Then she would be free of him, continue her life as she always had.

Ari’elle wrinkled her nose and shifted. Continue her life. She didn’t particularly like her life. Oh, she was content, but she wanted more. She wanted to explore, to discover, to find answers. She wanted excitement, to meet new people and go on adventures. To learn more about her human… wherever he was today. Ari’elle looked back down at her hand. If the Anchor did what the ‘God’ said it did, then she now had the ability to pursue those dreams.

She wrestled with her options, with her wants, but in her heart she had already made her decision. Ari’elle squared her shoulders, and walked to the camp. Whether or not this was the destiny Keeper had seen for her, this was the destiny she had chosen for herself.

***

“You are leaving.” Keeper’s words halter her momentum, stopping her in mid fold. She turned to him, still crouched on the ground from where she had been sorting through her belongings. Biting the _vallaslin_ on her lip, she stood slowly, searching for the words she had hoped would come to her when this conversation arose.

It had not been a question, but she answered it as such. “Yes, I am leaving.”

Keeper Solas studied her, hands folded on his staff, eyes narrowed in speculation. She shuffled her feet, nervous. What was he looking for? He finally spoke, words soft. “You have not been back for two days.” She nodded, acknowledging the fact. “Something has happened to you, has it not?”

Ari’elle parted her lips to tell him, but the mysterious mage’s words washed over her _“You must not tell anyone of our arrangement, or you will have to return to me immediately.”_ She hesitated, then finally whispered “Yes.”

He waited for her to say more, his expression one of disapproval. Ari’elle squirmed, always uncomfortable when he looked at her like that. Usually it was after one of her pranks, but this time she felt it much more strongly than typical. 

He sighed a giant heaving of his chest. “You have always been a handful, da’len. A happy, boisterous little child, inquisitive to a fault, and those traits have stayed with you as you have grown into an adult. The world is full of wonders for those who seek them, and you have dedicated your life to that search.” Ari’elle blinked, surprised. Even when Solas had been First, he had never spoken to her so candidly. 

“Sometimes I wonder if you are not more like Fen’Harel, a rebel and a trickster, than that of your patron, Andruil.” A gleam shown in his eyes, something she didn’t recognize. He brought one hand up under her chin, gently holding her in place as she looked up at him. “The path before you is clouded, effected by your recent walk in the Fade.” Recent walk through the Fade? Is that what the dream had been, a trip to the Fade? 

“Go, Ari’elle. Find what you have been seeking.” A faint smile graced his wise features, and with gentle fingers, he brushed the arrow tip of her _vallaslin_ on her forehead before dropping his hand.

Tears rushed into Ari’elle’s brown eyes, darkening them, emotions blocking up in her throat. She pressed her lips together, staving off the cries that threatened to break loose. Solas had been a father figure to her for most of her life. She didn’t realize how much she had been dreading this conversation, how scared she had been that he would hate her for the decision. She impulsively threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She was leaving with his blessing, and that meant so much to her.

He gave a surprised little laugh, patting her awkwardly on her back, before setting her back from him. He looked uncomfortable with her display of emotion, clearing his throat and looking away. “Yes, well.” He paused for a moment, regaining his composure, then spoke once more. “I will explain to the clan. I would leave quickly, if I were you.” Another twinkle rose in his eyes, this one more teasing. “Marron might corner you if you stay too long.” 

Ari’elle gave a watery chuckle, no doubt his intention. She nodded to him, throat finally clear enough. “Thank you Keeper. For everything.”

He nodded once, turning to leave her, then hesitated and rotated back. “If you should ever need us, do not hesitate to call on your clan. We shall be camped here for some months, then travel on to our winter camp.” With that, he turned and walked away.

Ari’elle knelt back down to her pack with a sniff. There was a quaking in her stomach, a desire to stay with what she knew, with the people she loved. But she continued to gather her things. It was time for her to seek her own way now. She packed some clothing, the treasures that she had secreted into camp, and the packet of her seeds. She didn’t know if she would get the chance to plant them, but she wasn’t going to leave them behind; they were a little bit of home. She felt a pang as she thought of her other stores of treasures scattered throughout the forest. It would be impossible to go to them now; some had months of traveling apart from each other. But someday she would go back and gather them.

She slung her travel pack over her shoulder, strapped on her quiver and grabbed her bow. With a faint hint of sadness she gazed around at her clan, drinking in her last moments she would have with them for a while. Hahren sat around the fire, speaking to the young children and telling stories to their audience. Adults roamed around camp, tending to the halla, preparing food, working on fashioning weapons or items. No one was paying much attention to her packing, used to her little starts that sent her off. She briefly debated saying goodbye to each of them, but decided she couldn’t. She would lose her resolve, unable to take the sadness with each person. Keeper would explain it all to them later.

With a final lick of her lips, she pushed her hair behind her shoulder and set off into the woods. That ‘God’ had said that this Anchor on her hand would close those Rifts, but she wasn’t sure. Fortunately, she knew the location of one, and she could practice on that, make sure it did what it was supposed to. As she slowly started to run, she clenched her fingers reflexively over her bow. That is, if she were able to defeat those strange creatures that appeared from the beams of magic. 

Ari’elle reached the clearing the Moon Flower grew in, but wasted no time stopping. The flowers would be closed, and she had some seeds in her collection. Someday she would smell her favorite fragrance again. Instead of heading in the direction that would take her directly to the Rift, she angled herself upstream. Perhaps there would be a closer place to cross the river than the log bridge so far down it. She didn’t think that she would be able to stand on the opposite side of the ravine and be able to close the Rift. She would probably have to be much closer, so she needed to get to the other side.

She reached the river some ways up from where she had originally hit it before, then turned and followed the curving path further. She traveled for quite some distance, the ravine still in place. It finally narrowed significantly, and Ari’elle stopped and eyed the expanse. She could jump it. She flicked a glance down to the rushing waters, giving it a wary glance. Logically, she knew that the distance was something she could handle, having jumped further before. It was still a good ways though. She looked around, gauging the terrain, testing the ground. The far side had small brush, this side was relatively clear as well.

Ari’elle pursed her lips in determination, and marched away from the ravine. She tightened the pack across her back, tied her arrows into her quiver, unstrung and secured her bow in the special slot between her shoulder blades and bag. Taking a steading breath, she started to run, pumping her arms and gaining momentum as she bolted towards the edge of the cliff before her.

With a shout, she punched off the close side, leaping with a practiced jump. She spared no glance to the water below her, eyes trained to the far cliff as she rushed towards it. She cleared the gap, landing with bent knees, allowing her momentum to move her instead of trying to resist it. She dropped the shoulder her bow was not sticking up over, rolling awkwardly, shielding it and her pack as best she could, using her arms to keep pressure off her back.

Ari’elle came to a stop quickly, adrenaline rushing through her. A jubilant smile spread over her rosy lips, and she jumped up and laughed. Pulling her pack off, she shuffled her clothing around, checking the contents. That clear bottle made of glass was still intact, cushioned by the material. She shoved everything back into place, making sure the potion was safely guarded, and checked her bow. She ran loving hands over the ironbark, checking to see if there were any damages. None. Her smile still in place, she restrung the wood, released her arrows, and then turned back to her task.

She ran, elation giving her wings. Her unbound hair streamed behind her, bare feet making almost no sound as they touched the earth. She made good time in the evening light, feeling as if everything was beckoning her onward. She breathed deeply of the forest, cleansing herself of worry. She could handle whatever came her way, she was sure of it.

Ari’elle’s ears twitched, drawn to a noise up ahead. Sounds she had unconsciously been listening for made their way to her. Fighting, shouted commands and eerie shrieks. Equal parts excitement and tenseness wound its way through her, and she brought her bow into place, notching an arrow as she darted forward. 

She stopped just outside of the clearing, her view blocked by greenery. A giddy smile split her face, quickly replaced by a gulp and nervously licked lips. She let out a hesitant breath and drew in one that settled her, released all her nerves. With a slow blink, she gathered herself, then stepped into the clearing.


	8. Chapter 8

Ari’elle stepped into the clearing, keeping her bow low but at the ready. She paused for a moment, taking in the scene. That strange glowing Rift still hovered in the air, taller than she was. Around it were six or seven fighters, engaging the creatures spawned by the Rift. Her heart gave an excited leap when her eyes landed on a man fighting one of the plant-like monsters, his face covered by a snarling animal visage, black and red fur over his shoulders. Her human. He was alright, seemingly unhurt from their trip down the river.

Tearing her eyes away, she narrowed in on the enemies. Her human was fine, holding his own against the monster he was fighting. The other two walking monsters were engaged as well, and there were a handful of the floating ones who were all sending blasts of magic around the clearing. 

With a smooth pull of her arms, she brought her bow up and fired. Before she saw if she had hit, mostly because she already knew she had, she had another arrow notched, and sent it on its way as well. The yellow floating creature screamed as the first arrow pierced it, turning in time to have the second catch it in the chest. It shrieked at her, not advancing any closer, but instead thrust out its arms and sent a volley of magic streaming at her.

Ari’elle let loose another arrow, dropping to her knees and spinning, standing with another notched. She gave a small smirk as the arrow hit true. She didn’t like to hunt very much, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t very good at what she did. The arrow slowed the creature, and he halted, stunned. With efficient movements, Ari’elle sent an arrow into its neck. It disintegrated slowly, energy streaming up into the crystal and vanishing.

She licked her lips, stepping away from the tree line. Would all the enemies have to be defeated before she could close it? That is what had happened in her dream, so she decided she would follow that process. She aimed for the next closest creature, one who was trading magical blasts with a mage. As she let loose her arrows, she couldn’t help but notice the man was handsome. He had dark hair and a very interesting bit of hair styled on his top lip. Apparently humans could grow hair on their faces? Her human had hair on his face too, but it was shorter and more all over.

When her first arrow hit the creature, the mage jerked in shock, swinging his eyes around. With a negligible flourish, he sent another burst at his target, and he started towards her, expression worried. “You should not be here! It is dangerous!”

Ari’elle flicked him a look, before refocusing on the creature now turning towards her. “I can help!” she shouted, sending more arrows flying. The man frowned, but turned back to the enemy still focused on him. The two of them spent the next few moments killing it together. When it disintegrated, the mage came to her side quickly. 

“I am sorry,” he said, curious eyes roving over her _vallaslin,_ “you don’t understand. There will be another wave soon, and another after that.” He turned his focus to one of the plant beings, sending a volley of purple energy at its back. As soon as it hit, the creature went wild, flailing, turning to the side and fleeing. 

Ari’elle brought her bow up and drew it. With careful movements she tracked where it would be, then let loose. The arrow sped quickly through the air, and hit her target perfectly. The crazed creature dropped like a stone, unmoving, the back of its head now pierced through. Slowly it disintegrated, wisps flying up to the Rift. Ari’elle turned to the mage, her determination showing on her face. “I can help you.”

The mage raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between her and the creature she had just killed, and whistled low. Finally he shrugged, “I can see that.” 

Ari’elle grinned at him broadly, excited and pleased. They both turned their attention to the remaining enemies and started to fight. The next few minutes were filled with sounds, but she was so focused on whittling the strange creatures away that she pushed all distractions from her mind. Her eyes would inevitably catch on her human, his form both powerful and graceful as he attacked, but she always turned away. He would use that flat piece of metal numerous ways, to block or deflect and even sometimes as a weapon itself. 

Her presence went mostly unnoticed by the soldiers fighting. Many had their backs to her, and she was working on picking off those that were on the outside, the yellow floating creatures. The short human using that odd contraption to fire bolts noticed her, however, and he gave her a little salute. She nodded in response, but didn’t pull her attention away from what she was doing. 

With a scream, the final creature disintegrated and was pulled up in towards the crystal. Everyone around sighed, relaxing. Her human, his back still to her, spoke loudly, his voice ringing through the clearing. “Gather your strength. The next wave will start in a few moments.”

Ari’elle’s eyes snapped to the Rift, warily watching it. The crystal had disappeared, replaced with those faint wavy lines she had seen during her dream. Now was the time the mysterious mage had closed it. With a fortifying huff, Ari’elle dashed to the center where it hung.

Her human turned, catching sight of her. “Who? Wait!” He cried, starting to run to her, gaining speed. But she was closer than he was.

Ari’elle ignored him, concentrating on what she had seen the mage do in her dream. She lifted her arm as she got closer, extending her palm. Power rolled through her hand, the magic starting to arc and bubble the closer she got. It glowed brighter and brighter and then a connection seemed to be made. That beam she had seen before connected from her palm to the Rift, a solid tether that linked her. 

“Ow!” She cried, pain shooting up her arm. She fought with the magic, keeping her arm in place as the Anchor and the Rift seemed to battle for dominance. “Ow, ow, ow, ow!” She chanted through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the stabs and focus on what was happening. Tendrils thickened, pulling from her hand up to the Rift, seeking to wrench her. She planted her heels, settling backwards. With frantic movements, she tried to yank her hand back, pull on the anchor between her and the object. She couldn’t seem to grasp it, but with each moment they were connected, the tendrils strengthened.

Finally, she felt a catch, and with a yell, she closed her fist over the magical connection and yanked. The tendrils snapped at the Rift end, magic bursting bright and then snapping shut. Ari’elle panted, eyes wide, staring up at where the Rift had been. Closed. She had closed it. She moved her eyes to her palm, studying it once more. Nothing was there to indicate anything had just happened, her skin unmarred except for the typical forest stains. Not even a small cut. Nothing glowed or shined. 

“What did you just do?” A strong voice commanded just before her.

Ari’elle started, shock making her jump and look up. Her human stood over her, voice echoing from within that metal container over his head. He was bigger than she thought, a comparison was difficult to do when swimming for your life or dragging his weight around. He was over a head taller than she was; the fur around his collar was dry and fluffed, making him appear broad than he already was. She swallowed, feeling apprehension and fear from him for the first time.

He made a noise, then reached up and removed the metal covering his head. His face was sheened with sweat, hair less curly than she had seen it before but still that interesting mix of blond and brown. It was still his handsome face, though now his features were tightened with suspicion and confusion, not relaxed in sleep. His eyes blazed down at her, and all Ari’elle could think was _What a pretty golden brown color his eyes are._

***

Cullen’s blood still pumped from the fight, making it hard for him to calm down. The suddenness of the situation didn’t help either. He had been expecting a short break and then to resume fighting, when he had turned to see a small woman sprinting across the field, directly into danger. He had reacted instinctively, intending to bodily carry her away if need be. Instead she had performed some sort of magical miracle, and the Rift had been closed. 

Every expert the Inquisition had talked to about the Rifts had said they knew of no way to close them. So when a stranger just appeared with an answer, his first instinct was to be wary. He saw the tattoos on her face, instantly placing her. Answers from a reclusive Dalish elf, no less. While he knew of the Dalish, he didn’t think he had ever actually seen or talked to one before. Not that this one was talking right now anyways. 

“Well?” He demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, letting his helmet dangle from his fingers. The woman flinched, opened her mouth, and her eyes grew even wider, if such a thing were possible.

“I… I closed the Rift,” she stammered out, shifting under his glare. New recruits were that nervous of him, but he forced himself to take a breath and relax fractionally. She was scared, and she was not one of his men. He couldn’t expect her to follow orders like they did. 

He let his arms relax, placing his hands on the pommel of his sword. He gentled his voice, trying to calm her. “Yes. And we thank you for that. What I am curious about is how you were able to accomplish that feat.”

She blinked those large eyes up at him, swiped her tongue across her bottom lip. He started after a second, realized his gaze had lingered on the silky pink of her glistening lip. He resisted the urge to shift, give some indication of his sudden awkwardness. He realized in a rush that she really was quite pretty. Her eyes were large and tilted exotically, a dark and rich brown. She was slight, small and slender and looked like she could not be much older than a teen. But she had the curves of a woman, rounded in all the right places, and a subtle confidence in her body that indicated she was comfortable with herself. Her hair was a beautiful jumble falling around her shoulders, curling wildly. Real flowers were woven through the rich brown fall, he noticed with surprise, the tips of her pointed ears peeked through delicately. She looked like a true forest spirit, at one with the flora, looking young and innocent.

The elf noticed his study, and she pursed her lips together, stiffening her spine and jerking her chin up in defiance. Cullen suppressed the smile that threatened to break loose. _Atta girl._ “I have a magic in my hand,” she looked down her pert nose at him, demeanor confident. “It is called an Anchor, and it can close the Rifts.” The fear had left her eyes, now replaced with determination. 

“Really?” Cullen snaked out a hand, grasping her wrist. He encircled it, fingers generously enveloping the delicate bones, and brought the hand she had held to the Rift up to examine. She gasped slightly, no doubt incensed at his impertinence, but she didn’t try to pull away or protest. Cullen looked at her palm, turning it this way and that. There was no indication of anything there, but he had seen what had occurred with his own eyes. “Why is it not showing up?” He asked her, still holding her wrist.

She shrugged. “It only glows sometimes. It definitely reacted to the Rift, but other times it is almost like it isn’t there.” Cullen nodded, taking one last look, and then dropped her hand.

She pulled her hand close to her chest, peering down at it with consternation. “It glowed after…” She murmured. 

“What was that?” 

She jerked her gaze back up. “It glowed for a while, after I got it. I don’t know why.” She frowned, pushing out that pink bottom lip tattooed with fine lines that flowed down the her chin. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t continue.

Cullen watched her for a moment, giving her some time to talk if she wanted. When she remained silent, he asked some questions of his own. “How did you get it? When?”

She opened her mouth and then hesitated. Wrestling with something, she spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words. “I was asleep. When I woke up, I had the Anchor plus some knowledge on how to make it work. And it appeared just a short time ago.” 

It was scant information, and from the little looks she darted up at him from where she had focused on the designs etched into his armor, she knew it. Possibly there was more to the story, but it was obvious from the way she was pressing her lips together she wasn’t going to say it. Cullen rolled his shoulders, elated besides his tiredness. There was a way to close the Rifts, to close the Breach. There was now a glimmer of hope for them, some way to achieve their purpose.

“Are you part of the Inquisition?” The woman piped up, surprising him. How would a Dalish know of the Inquisition?

“We are,” he inclined his head. “I am Inquisitor Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition.” He took her hand, bowing over it respectfully. He needed to be on this woman’s good side, get her to agree to come with them. Now that they had a means to close the Rifts, he was not going to let it slip away so easily. 

She beamed at his reply, but quirked a brow at his formal bow, tilting her head to the side as she watched him intently. Her hair swung from behind her shoulder, free from any sort of binding that the woman he knew usually seemed to prefer. His gesture was lost on her, he realized, and he felt a faint heat rise in his cheeks. She still smiled delightedly, but she didn’t understand the greeting. He lowered her hand and stepped back, clearing his throat.

“Oh good! Could I join you? I want to help!” She bounced excitedly, leaning forward with her eagerness.

Cullen blinked in surprise, shocked at her response. Too many thought the Inquisition was a jumped up little cause, not worth their attention. “Ah, yes. Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat again, trying to shift his mind set. He had been thinking of ways to get her to come with them, and she had thrown him for a little bit of a loop. “Yes. Do you mind if I ask how you know of the Inquisition?”

She smiled again, no reservations in her gesture. “My friend Sera just joined you. She thinks you are doing good work, helping people. I want to help too.” Cullen furrowed his brows, thinking through their more recent volunteers. He couldn’t place a face with the name, but it didn’t surprise him. He had been here for almost two weeks. Their reserves were close to tapped out, so he had led a small group to this location in an attempt to discover if there was a way to close the Rifts. It now appeared that he had somehow succeeded with that mission, albeit in a different manner than he had expected. 

“I am afraid I don’t know your friend, but I look forward to meeting her.” Cullen made to turn, but then realized something and turned back to the woman. “What is your name, Mistress elf?”

Her wide eyes sparkled up to him, natural sweetness a cloak she wore well. “I am Ari’elle, of the clan Lavellan. And I look forward to working with you Inquisitor Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition!”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An amazing piece of artwork done by the amazing [ Feylen! ](http://feylen.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [](http://s25.photobucket.com/user/Cometeclipse/media/3.png.html)

Her human, Inquisitor Commander Cullen Rutherford, turned away and walked a short ways to where a cluster of the fighters stood, eyeing her with unabashed curiosity. She blinked, staring raptly as they all snapped to attention, focusing on him as he spoke. Ari’elle tilted her head to the side, watching his back as he talked. What was his name? Inquisitor? Was the Inquisition named after him? Rutherford would be his clan name, so was Commander Cullen a name stuck between the two of them? Humans had some strange naming systems.

He flicked his honey brown eyes to her, an unreadable expression on his face. Ari’elle smiled in return, tensing to go to his side, but he turned away and continued on. She felt a slight sinking in her stomach, and frowned down to the ground. Maybe she should have told him she saved him. Would he believe her? She could scarce believe it herself.

She looked back to where the cluster of men stood, and she took a slight step backwards. Curiosity was still present, but now there was some suspicion as well, narrowed eyes measuring her. Ari’elle gulped, her previous excitement starting to diminish. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to just barge in on them. Surely they didn’t think she was going to do anything dangerous?

The group didn’t move from the clearing, lingering despite there being nothing to fight any longer. Perhaps they were waiting to see if the Rift returned? Ari’elle was also curious about that, wondered if it was a permanent solution. She crouched down, peering at a viscous smear on the ground. Remnants of the Rift? Using a small twig she poked at it, watching it wobble in response but it did nothing else, didn’t create another Rift.

She stood back up with a pursing of her lips, feeling antsy. Inquisitor had allowed her to join with them. She didn’t need to be nervous, she was welcome. She jutted her chin up, shaking off her disquiet. It wasn’t in her nature anyways. She was going to be going on an adventure, travel beyond her woods, see strange and wonderful things. A shiver of anticipation worked its way up her spine, and she let the delicious feeling spread through her. A smile bloomed, and she turned to find the mage she had fought side by side with.

He stood back where she had run from his side, but now he was joined by that short human. With confident steps, she crossed to them and they turned to watch her as she did. Once she reached them, she introduced herself. “I am Ari’elle. I just joined the Inquisition, and I hope we can be friends!” She pressed her lips together in a forced smile, not quite as confident as she tried to act, glancing back and forth between the two.

The short one nodded in a greeting, holding out his hand. “Hey there. I’m Varric, this here is Dorian.” His hand stayed suspended between them, and Ari’elle glanced from it up to the smiling face. Slowly she raised her own, and placed her hand in his grasp. “Other hand,” he said gently, and she quickly switched, glancing to see if she had done it right. Varric beamed at her, clasping her palm in a tight grip and moving it up and down. 

“Oh!” Ari’elle exclaimed, catching on and returning the gesture. Giddy excitement bubbled up into her chest, and when Varric dropped her hand, she turned to Dorian, hand extended. Dorian’s bark of laughter echoed through the clearing, and he matched their opposite palms, enthusiastically pumping her hand. 

“What’s this called?” Ari’elle asked, her eyes twinkling. “Why are we doing it?”

Varric spoke up, watching their still moving hands with amusement. “It’s called a handshake. When meeting new people it is a customary greeting.”

Steps came up behind her, and Ari’elle tossed a glance over her shoulder. Inquisitor Commander Cullen Rutherford joined their group, blond brows drawn down, hair slightly tousled. Ari’elle felt that swell of excitement his presence seemed to produce, and she turned to him, offering her hand eagerly. 

He took it with a bemused look, and Ari’elle laughed. “It’s a handshake. It’s what you do when you meet someone for the first time,” Ari’elle informed him, adopting the air of her _hahren_ when they were imparting wisdom, feeling very proud she knew something he did not. He hadn’t done this to her earlier, instead just held her hand and bowed over it. 

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, quirking at that intriguing scar, before being smoothed back into a solemn line. “Yes,” he nodded, matching her serious attitude. “I am pleased to meet you, Mistress Ari’elle Lavellan.”

In the faux solemn mood, she repeated back to him “I am pleased to meet you, Inquisitor Commander Cullen Rutherford.” His hand swallowed hers, the leather of his gloves warm against her skin, little tendrils of heat licking up her arm. 

“Please,” he laughed, letting go of her and gave little waving gestures. “No need to call me by my full title. Commander or Inquisitor alone is fine.” Ari’elle dropped her suddenly cold hand, clenching it at her thigh. He turned away, focusing his attention on the two others in the group. “Are we ready to depart?”

Ari’elle dropped her head forward, her hair swinging to hide her face. She chewed on her bottom lip, worried at the intensity of her reactions. This adventure was going to be filled with lots of emotional ups and downs, and she was worried that too many of them would be due to the handsome human man standing at her side. What would Keeper think? She took a deep breath, and then peeked beneath her curls.

Varric had his arms crossed over his chest, nodding, but his eyes were on her. Or, more specifically, her hair. “Damn,” he exclaimed, a chuckle accompanying his words, “Curly, she has got you beat.” He shook his head, “I should have saved it for you, Ari’elle. You just scream to be nicknamed Curly.”

He focused on Commander’s hair, frowning at. “Nope. Doesn’t yell nearly as loud.” He gave a dramatic sigh, “Oh well Cullen. You are already Curly in my mind. I will just have to find you a different nickname Ari’elle.” He nodded decisively.

They turned, the other soldiers falling in behind them, Commander taking the lead. Ari’elle hesitated for a moment, and then took swift steps to catch up to Varric’s side. “What’s a nickname?” 

He shot a surprised glance up to her, “You Dalish don’t have nicknames?” Ari’elle shrugged, unable to answer until he explained it to her. “It is another name people call you by, one that indicates affection, familiarity.” 

“Oh,” Ari’elle drew out, thinking. “Well, my friends call me Ari.” At least, Sera did. When she was younger, other clan members had called her Ari, but that had changed as she had grown into adulthood.

Varric nodded. “Ari is a nickname, of sorts. I like to be a bit more… inventive when creating mine.” He explained in his raspy voice, a layer of wicked amusement in his voice. 

“So what’s yours then?” They pushed through the undergrowth, Ari’elle dancing around the vegetation while others pushed through it. They were loud, she thought, anyone would be able to hear the humans, and they would tire quicker forcing their way through. But it seemed to be all they knew.

Varric let out a loud chuckle. “Cassandra would tell you that it is Dwarf, or Ugh,” he gave an exaggerated and disgusted grunt, “But don’t let her fool you.”

Ari’elle felt a bolt of amazement, “A dwarf?! Is that what you are?” She skipped as she went around a tree, catching up to him as quickly as she could. “You are a _Durgen’len_? A child of the stone?”

Varric gave her a long quizzical glance. “Of course, what did you think I was? Although, I don’t actually like being underground. Spent all my life above it, except those few times Hawke dragged me down,” He spoke the last in a grumble, but Ari’elle was too star-struck to notice.

“I haven’t ever seen a dwarf before! Can I ask you some questions?” She stumbled over a branch, not paying nearly enough attention to what was in her path. But she didn’t care; this opportunity was one she hadn’t been expecting. Her clan knew so little of the _Durgen’len,_ of their lives or history.

Varric waved a hand, “Ask away, elf. We got a ways to go yet.”

***

Cullen smiled most of the way back to camp, pleased he was at the front of the procession so he didn’t have to hide his reactions. Just behind him the elf and Varric traded words rapidly. They were well matched; Ari’elle would ask him a question, and Varric would go into a rambling tall tale. At some point in time he would have to warn her not to take too much of what the storyteller said literally. But as of right now, she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, and he didn’t have to worry about the topic. 

She had been disappointed that Varric hadn’t been able to describe too much of what Orzammar life was like, but Varric had told her what he knew. Then the questions and answers had turned to Kirkwall, and subsequently to the Champion and the adventures they had gotten up to. Varric was currently telling the story of how they had killed a dragon, cursing the Bone Pit for the twentieth time. “And then Hawke bought it. Actually bought the blighted thing. She doesn’t have any business sense, buying a mine constantly riddled with dragons. Who would do such a harebrained thing?” 

As this was not the first time he had heard the story, one of Varric’s favorite rants, Cullen tuned it out slightly. Although, Ari’elle’s question about what harebrained meant turned into a funny little discussion between the two. 

As they neared their temporary camp, Cullen thought of the mysterious power Ari’elle had. From what he could determine from her, she was not dangerous and was truly interested in helping the Inquisition. But she was hiding something; that he was sure of. He could be wrong about her intentions. Before they headed to Skyhold, he wanted to make sure she was truly capable of closing the Rifts. Although the Inquisition was not high on many peoples watch lists, there were some groups that wanted to see them wiped out. The Red Templars for instance. Although it didn’t seem likely, Ari’elle could be a spy, working with some dangerous people. 

They wound their way through the forest, following their previous tracks, until they reached their temporary camp. Cullen turned at the boundary, letting his men enter first, keeping a watchful eye on the elf. She hesitated, eyes darting around, catching on all the different sights. She could be counting, Cullen thought, eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

Yet, she seemed most intrigued by odd things, like the cart wheels, saddles set up on their sides, the canvas tents. Cullen would have thought the weapons or armor, the number of horses, or the amount of supplies would be her interest. That is, if she were a spy. Instead her delicate oval face took it all in, lips slightly parted, intense interest and wonder lighting up her face.

Cullen turned from her, marching in to give orders to the camp officer. “The bulk of us will break camp, move to Seeker Cassandra’s base, and work to close the Rift there.” Cullen couldn’t help the glance back to Ari’elle at the words, but turned his attention back to his task. “Saddle the horses. A small contingent of three men will stay for two days. I want to be sure that the Rift doesn’t reappear.” The soldier bowed at the dismissal, and hurried off to obey his commands, and Cullen turned to gather his things. Within minutes they were packed, ready to go. 

Ari’elle had crept further into camp as Cullen had worked; her attention focused on the now saddled horses. She held out a hand to the closest one, a wide smile breaking out over her face as it lipped at her palm, giggling as it looked for a treat. Cullen walked over to her, and she quietly asked him “What are these animals?”

Cullen stopped at her side, resuming his customary stance; hands on the pommel of his sword, feet braced apart. “These are horses. We use them as mounts.” At her confused look, he clarified. “We ride them.”

Her brows drew tight. “Oh.” She said in a quiet voice. 

Cullen frowned, realizing something. “You don’t know how to ride, do you?”

The elf shrugged, still not looking at him. “The horses look a bit like our halla. We don’t ride them though; they are used for pulling our aravals, a sacred task. It would be disrespectful to treat them any differently.” Her voice was small, almost apologetic.

Cullen gritted his teeth as his men started to collect their mounts, swinging up onto their backs. As they did, he noted the other thing that had been worrying him. There were no free horses available for her to ride. Even if there were, would he have just tied her horse to one of the others and let her be pulled behind? 

Cullen sighed, thinking through the problem. He could stick her on one of the horses with his men, but he didn’t like the idea of not being able to keep an eye on her. The trip to Cassandra’s position would be an intense two day ride, crossing the forest and then the plain beyond it. While she was small, he didn’t want other horses to bear the combined burden. His horse was by far the largest; Imperial would barely notice her weight.

“Wait here,” Cullen ordered, mind made up. He crossed to where his grey stallion stood tied up, and led the large animal back to her. “This is Imperial. Hold out your hand for him to get to know you.” Her brown eyes widened at the horse’s height, and she tentatively raised her hand. As Imperial sniffed her hand, Cullen spoke the commands to him that would let him know she was an ally, would allow her to ride him. “Imperial is a war horse, but he should behave as long as you don’t make any signs of aggression towards me,” he explained.

Ari’elle nodded, the hesitancy draining as Imperial pushed playfully at her palm, whickering slightly. Cullen frowned at his horse’s reaction. Imperial reached out, and carefully plucked on of the flowers still nestled Ari’elle’s hair. He nodded his head playfully, making that bright smile spread over her face, a giggle break through her trepidation. 

Cullen turned, swinging himself onto the tall back. Imperial was… flirting with her, something he had never seen the hot-blooded stallion ever do. With firm hands on the reins, Cullen collected the horse, calming him and bringing him to attention. 

Smoothing the frown from his face, Cullen leaned to the side, extending a hand down to the elf. “Are you ready?” Her brown eyes widened once more, and she licked nervously along her plush lip, snagging his attention for a brief second. Her pink and tattooed lip was entirely too delectable looking. 

After a moment of looking up at him, she smiled with resolve, eyes dancing with an eager inner light, and she slipped her hand into his. With a quick movement, he pulled her up while she jumped; her lithe body flew through the air and settled neatly behind him. Still holding her hand, he brought her arm around his waist. “Hold tight,” he told her, and she slipped her other arm around, bringing her body flush against his armor and back. With a quick check to make sure she was settled, he clicked to Imperial, and they were off.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned the amazing Cocotingo over on Tumblr to draw Ari'elle! And here is her lovely work!!! I am so excited!!!
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> [](http://s25.photobucket.com/user/Cometeclipse/media/ArielleCoco.jpg.html)  
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> Give Cocotingo some love [Here!](http://cocotingo.tumblr.com/)

The jerky movements of Imperial’s dancing rocked Ari’elle from side to side, and she held tight to the body in her arms. They could not travel at too fast of a pace, the forest was thick and the path not clear enough for the horse to move at his preferred pace. Imperial seemed eager to go faster, but Commander kept a firm check on the leather bands in his hand, speaking low words to the horse. Imperial would flick his ears back to listen and he would settle back down with the words.

Pressed as she was to his back, Ari’elle couldn’t really watch the human she had wrapped in her arms. A heated flush rose in her cheeks when she thought of the way her arms encircled him, the way he had placed her hands against the cloth of his over jacket. His actions had been professional, but it was easy for her to imagine him doing the same thing, only with a more seductive intent. She leaned away slightly, the fur of his collar tickling her face. 

She twisted, looking behind her. Arrayed in single file through the narrow path, his men fell into position, their horses keeping time with Imperial. Dorian rode directly behind them, giving her a sardonic smile as she looked. She returned it with a shaky one, feeling herself starting to slip to one side. 

“Careful,” Commander cautioned her, reaching around behind him to her waist, hauling her upright again. Ari’elle gasped, the strength of his arm leaving an imprint through the thin leather of her garment. 

“So-sorry!” She blurted out, copying his position as best she could. Her blush spread up to her ears, making them twitch slightly in embarrassment. She wasn’t making a very good first impression, was she? Determined to be as focused and serious as he was, Ari’elle concentrated on the horse’s movements, studying its gait as they rocked side to side. 

After some time, though, she felt confident with her ability to move with the horse, to let her attention wander a bit. And it locked onto the man whose shoulders were all she could see. Her rode with those broad shoulders back, chin up, body moving with Imperial in perfect harmony. “You are good at this, aren’t you? At riding.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and Ari’elle thought that maybe he wouldn’t answer at all. “I suppose I am now,” his rich voice held a thread of surprise, as if he had never thought about it. “When I was young, I rode some. But it has only been since I joined the Inquisition that I have spent any great time riding.” His words shut down, and Ari’elle wished that she could see his face, read his expression. 

When he offered no more, she let the one main question that had been bothering her since she had pulled him from the water burst from her. “What is the name of the metal that goes over your head? It looks like some sort of crazed beast.”

He again paused for a few heartbeats, his body moving in reaction. “It is called a helmet, or a helm.” He informed her, amusement obvious in his voice. Ari’elle scrunched her nose, a little annoyed he was laughing at her. “It is the visage of a Red Lion, one of the large predators that haunt the Frostback Mountains.”

“Oh,” she sniffed, then couldn’t help herself from asking, “Is that the animal all your fur comes from too?” 

He nodded his golden head, but said nothing else. They sat in silence for a few moments, before Ari’elle uncrossed one arm from his waist and tapped a nail against the flat metal piece he had been fighting with, now strapped over his knee. “And is this some sort of weapon?”

“When used properly, it can be, although it is meant to be used with a sword. It is called a shield, and its main purpose is for protection. With training you can effectively use to block attacks and to cause your opponents harm.” He stopped for a moment, and she thought he would cease talking again, so his next words caught her by surprise. “Do the Dalish not use either shield or helm?”

Ari’elle shrugged; unaware that he felt the movement. “No one in my clan does. Maybe the other clans do; the ones who have greater contact with humans. We never travel outside of the forest, sticking to deep within. The only reason we are so close to the border is due to the meeting of clans that is taking place this year.” Ari’elle felt no hesitation explaining their customs. Maybe she could become a bridge between the two cultures, unifying them in greater understanding. “We do little waring, mostly hunting. Animals are more likely to be afraid of your smell then they are of a helmet. Plus, we mostly fight with bows; a good hunter does not let a target get close enough to need such contraptions.”

They sat in silence for a while, Ari’elle holding back all the questions she wanted to ask. She knew that she could be annoying with them; Keeper had warned her a few times in the past. The further they traveled away from the heart of the forest, however, anxiety started to build. She would be leaving her home for the first time, already travelling beyond the boundaries of all she knew. 

She wet her lips, letting a question impulsively burst out. “You said your titles were Inquisitor and Commander, right? Does that mean your name is Cullen Rutherford?” Ari’elle shifted, wondering if her question was too bold to ask someone like him. 

However, he seemed to take no offense, “Yes. My full name is Cullen Stanton Rutherford.”

“Inquisitor Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford,” Ari’elle beat through the words. Exasperation filtered into her voice, “Why are there so many names to remember?”

Cullen Rutherford’s body shook in her arms as he let out a rolling laugh. Ari’elle’s lips parted in wonder, a tingling rush of pleasure lightening her mood, bringing happiness. She had made him laugh. “Yes, it is a bit tedious, isn’t it? But humans seem to like their titles. Orlesians especially. I could add a few more in there, but they are really unnecessary.”

Ari’elle frowned at the unfamiliar term, Orlesians, but she kept quiet… at least for a while. They talked sporadically; mostly her asking questions. She learned of the equipment associated with the horses, bridal and saddle. Who the Orlesians were, than of other nations beyond what she knew. She asked after their destination, and received a vague reply. She knew that Commander Cullen would most likely be wary of her, but she was still sad that he didn’t seem to trust her yet. It will come with time, she told herself, trying to be patient. 

He asked her a few questions between her own; mostly what life was like in a Dalish clan. She had described a typical day for a hunter, for a Keeper, for a craftsman. She never went into details of her day; she didn’t want to tell him that she spent most of her time in idle pursuit of her treasures or search for flowers. She didn’t think that that would be the sort of thing he would appreciate hearing from her. So she detailed others’ lives, keeping scant on hers. 

As the sky darkened, the sun setting, they slowed the horses pace, unable to see far enough ahead to keep their speed. Ari’elle yawned, taking one hand from around Commander Cullen’s waist to bring to her mouth. Imperial had settled through the day, not tiring but using his excess energy, so she was not worried about falling off at the walk they were doing.

“Are we not stopping?” Ari’elle asked the large man, almost lulled into sleep by the now smooth and easy motions of the horse. 

“Not for some time yet,” his voice drifted back to her. He didn’t sound tired, Ari’elle thought blurrily. “We need to make up some more time if we are to reach Seeker Cassandra before tomorrow’s nightfall.” 

With drooping eyes, Ari’elle succumbed to the inevitable, and she looped her arms back around his waist, loosely linking her fingers. She had slept in just as many strange places before; although she admitted a moving animal was new to her. With a soft contented sigh, she leaned her cheek against the broad back before her, soft fur cushioning her from the metal armor hidden beneath his cloak. 

“Hmm,” she made a non-committal reply, then let herself drift. She hadn’t really realized how tired she was. The past few days had been very intense for her, both physically and mentally. Though the Fade-dream had healed her, she hadn’t had much sleep to replenish her energy.

At some point in the night, the string of riders stopped, slipping from horseback to make a temporary camp. She had woken groggily; barely aware of Commander Cullen helping her slid off Imperials back before dismounting himself. She had watched the commotion for a moment, then walked to the base of one of the trees, curling up beneath it on the soft padding of fallen leaves, and promptly fell back asleep.

Ari’elle woke the next morning to words being exchanged. With a large yawn, she sat up, rubbing her face and stretching. A gentle weight fell from her shoulders, and she looked down in confusion. A blanket had been laid over her sometime in the night. Pushing her hair from her face, she looked around, brows drawn down. 

There were no tents this morning, and only one small fire heating food for those who were awake. Her stomach growled in response, and she eagerly stood, gathering the blanket in her arms. Tentatively crossing to the fireside, she looked for one of the few people she knew. Varric stood, spooning something into his mouth. 

“Well, if it isn’t miss sleepy-head. Impressive skill you have there,” he acknowledged as she came up to him. “Wish I could sleep just anywhere. Would make my life damned easier.” He chuckled, then gestured to the pot over the fire with his spoon. “Grab some grub. You are going to want it.”

“Where should I put the blanket?” She cleared her throat, aware she probably still sounded half asleep. 

Varric waved to one of the men. “He will take it. Pack it back up. We will be leaving within a half hour,” he warned, “better make sure you get as much food as you can handle. We still have a long push, but it doesn't look like we are going to make it to the Seeker’s side today.”

Ari’elle frowned, confused by the statement. Were they moving slower than expected? Was it somehow her fault? She glanced nervously around the humans as she crossed to the man Varric had indicated, handing him the blanket. Although none were looking at her with open welcome, there was no anger or condemnation directed her way. She allowed herself a tiny sigh of relief. It didn’t look like her fault.

She was finishing up a second bowl of the essentially tasteless, but filling, soupy grain when Commander Cullen strode into the clearing. She sat up straight, watching him intently as he gestured for attention. “We did not make it as far as I would have liked, all of us needing the slower pace to not reinjure ourselves.” Ari’elle glanced around the humans, taking stock. There were several who sported obvious bandages. “As such, we will not be arriving at our destination till tomorrow morning. Once clear of the forest, the journey will be hard and fast. We will make full camp tonight, then reach Seeker Cassandra’s location in the early morning.”

He broke away, long legs eating up the distance as he went to tend to Imperial. Ari’elle watched him, realization breaking through. He was like their Keeper. His people listened to what he said, gave him respect. And in turn he provided wise counsel. Absentmindedly finishing her food, she realized she should have put the pieces together before. He was obviously in charge of the group, and had even said it to her before. She just hadn’t quite realized what it meant to these people. Nibbling on her lip, she left the bowl at the fireplace, and went to gather her things.

“Mistress Lavellan!” His strong voice rang out through the clearing, making her jump. It was a strange greeting, one she was not used to. Imperial was already saddled, Commander Cullen standing at his side. The few concessions the humans had made for sleep were rapidly put away, horses being mounted and made ready. Ari’elle swallowed, hurried to his side. As she crossed, she watched him effortlessly swing up onto Imperial’s tall back. 

Commander Cullen leaned down, once more extending his hand. A lock of his golden hair fell over his forehead, sleep still clinging to his eyes. That darker hair dusting his cheeks and throat was longer, growing as the days progressed. Her palms tingled in remembrance of moving her palms along his jaw, of feeling the smooth planes of his face. She allowed herself to be pulled closer by his golden brown eyes, slipping her hand into his and jumping up behind him. She carefully wrapped her arms around his waist, setting herself back from him. Oh, he was dangerous to her wellbeing. It would be far too easy to…

The jolt of Imperial starting to walk shook her from the thought, and she grabbed onto the distraction gratefully. They started slowly, then gained speed as everyone worked the stiffness from their muscles. Soon they were continuing with the pace they had set the day before. 

The forest grew lighter and lighter as they continued, the trees thinning out, the composition changing. More sunlight filtered through, the trees not as old or as broad. Vegetation rose up, taking advantage of the light, competing for resources and space. And Ari’elle felt herself grow tenser and tenser with the change. She hadn’t expected to feel this conflicted, this upset. But with each passing minute, the momentousness of her actions was driven home deeper and deeper. 

“Are you alright?” Commander Cullen’s voice jolted her from her trance. She blinked up to him, startled to see he had turned his head to look at her. He hadn’t done that before. She licked her lips, and nodded, forcing a smile to her face. “Yes.” She winced at how weak she sounded. “Yes,” she tried again.

His eyes narrowed, obviously not buying the lie she was giving him. She let the smile disappear, no longer concealing her fears. She lowered her eyes, focusing on the fur ahead of her, her voice dropping even more. “I have never left the forest before. Never left my clan. I am… I am nervous.” 

She could feel his eyes searching her face, but she didn’t meet his gaze. She felt too exposed, too vulnerable. He finally turned ahead, saying nothing. But he covered her hands around his waist with one of his own, gently giving them a squeeze. Ari’elle took a deep breath, letting some of the tension in her shoulders and back ebb out of her. He left his large hand over hers for a long moment, his warmth transferring through the leather of his glove into her chilled fingers, the simple gesture of compassion calming her and giving her strength. 

The last bit of forest fell away behind them, and Commander Cullen pulled up to a halt, turning Imperial so that Ari’elle could see. She gasped, gaping at the scenery before her. Gently undulating hills spread out for so far, angling downwards, a short brown grass the only vegetation covering most of it. Here and there were a few clusters of trees, but all in all, it was wide open. Open with nothing to block the view, with nothing to block the sun. Keeper had said there were places like this in the world, but Ari’elle had never been able to imagine it before. Even now that it was before her, she could scarcely believe her eyes. Far off in the distance there were dark smudges against the bright blue horizon, outlines of mountains, she thought. She tilted her head back, looking at the scattered clouds, letting the warm sunlight heat her face, marveling at how bright everything was.

Commander Cullen was watching his men emerge from the tree line. When the last one broke through, he turned Imperial down towards a path, one that was worn and obviously used regularly. “Are you ready?” He asked her, turning to watch her face once more.

Her eyes wide, bouncing here and there, Ari’elle nodded, sitting up eagerly and twisting around to see everything. 

He chuckled, a warm and low rumble that heated her, made her focus on him. “You are going to want to hold on tight, and lean into me.” He turned back around, waiting for her to follow his orders. “I have a feeling you are going to like this,” he murmured, a smile still in his voice.

Curiosity assailed her at his words, her ears twitching. She reached further around his waist, scooting closer into his back. She grabbed handfuls of his cloak and held tight. 

He clicked to Imperial, squeezing with his legs. Imperial whickered in excitement, powerful body bunching and then bursting forward. Ari’elle felt a gasp leave her body as they bolted forward, plastered to Commander Cullen as he leaned over the horse’s neck. 

Exhilaration filled her, an unimagined joy rising as they gained speed. Ari’elle laughed, feeling the wind catch in her curls and whip them out into a stream behind her. “Faster! Faster!” She cried, loving the feeling, loving the speed, the powerful push of the horse, the smooth gait, the wind. Imperial took to the freedom with long strides, leaving the others behind as they gained speed. Ari’elle tilted her head up, barely able to watch the scenery flash by, laughing as she felt Commander Cullen masterfully direct the horse, urging him to greater speeds. As they galloped down the road, her delighted laughter hung in the air, beckoning the soldiers behind her to catch them if they can.


	11. Chapter 11

Cullen stood beyond the circle of light, arms crossed and silent as he watched the new recruit. It was hard not to watch her; she was so… full of life. The men had discovered that she had never eaten a good Ferelden meal before, and they had promptly decided to make sure she got one. She had been enthusiastic, asking questions as they had prepared, asking about their lives in the Inquisition and back at their homes. When the food had been finished, she had eaten with relish, praising all involved. Cullen thought her pleasure with the meal had been slightly exaggerated for their benefit, but it endeared her to everyone all the more. Their looks of wary acceptance were quickly melting away; her infectious laughter and the knowledge that she could close the rifts they had been fighting for so long creating a festive mood.

Varric came to his side, adopting Cullen’s stance. Together they watched as Ari’elle sat next to Dorian, listening raptly as he explained what life was like in Tevinter. After she started up a string of questions, Varric finally broke the silence. “She is certainly… inquisitive.”

Cullen nodded slowly, “I don’t know if that is a good thing or not.”

Varric turned to look up at him, a frown in place. “You don’t think she’s a danger to us, surely.”

Ari’elle’s laugh echoed out from the circle around the fire, and then her tart retort caused everyone else to respond in kind. She beamed widely; seeming pleased she had made the others happy. Varric shook his head, “It seems unlikely.”

“True,” Cullen said ruefully, aware of how strange his hesitation sounded. “But there is something she isn’t telling us. Of that I am certain.” His instincts was one of the reasons Leliana and Josephine had decided he would be a better Inquisitor than either of them. Plus Leliana’s Nightingale status didn’t lend her to be the one in the forefront, and Josephine had emphatically stated that she was not a public leader, she was a diplomat. So the burden had become his, and Cullen was not taking his responsibilities lightly.

“You will notify me if anything seems abnormal.” Cullen didn’t frame it as a question. It was a command, one he expected to be obeyed. 

Varric shrugged, “You mean like if she sprouts wings and flies off into the night?” He gave a little bark of laughter at Cullen’s unamused expression. “Loosen up, Curly. I’ll watch her. Besides, she is fun. She believes everything I tell her. I don’t know the last time I have had such a gullible, I mean good audience.”

Cullen shook his head at the storyteller’s glee. “I will warn her about you.” Cullen paused for a second, then added, “and Dorian.” Ari’elle wouldn’t know what hit her if the two of them decided to start their antics.

“Sure you will, Curly. Sure you will.” Varric sauntered back towards the circle of light, calling out as he went, “Say Sparkler? Did you tell her about the time with the boat, the juggler, and the mabari yet?”

***

It was late, and Cullen should be asleep. But his head was pounding, the warmth of the day linger and compounding inside his tent, stifling him. He sat up with a sigh, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t have worked on that last report. The weak candle light had definitely not helped things. Although most of his withdrawal symptoms were gone, the addiction lingered, carving away at his mental defenses, giving him frequent headaches. Maybe someday the insidious little voice would quiet, but right now it was still too loud.

He sat up, pushing off the thin blanket of his bedroll, and pulled on breeches and a loose shirt. Stepping from the tent presented an immediate cooler change in temperature, a slight breeze making the tall grass gently bob in the moonlight. He turned his back on the fire, the flickering light making him wince. A few men were lingering, either on watch or having a hard time sleeping themselves. Cullen could have joined them for company, but he instead walked away, stepping quietly into the tall grass.

Once a little ways from camp he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, letting the fresh air and cooler temperatures ease his headache. Nights like tonight reminded him of home, a little ache of nostalgia settling in his heart. The smell of sun-ripened wheat in the cooling night, a gentle breeze, the faint sound of voices. All that was missing were the fireflies that would flicker in the summer, and he could be back on the family farm in Honnleath.

“Commander.” A gentle feminine voice snapped his eyes open, jerking his head to the side. Sitting on the ground just off his left, Ari’elle sat amongst the tall stalks. The moonlight lit her pale face, a small smile lifting her lips.

“Mistress Lavellan.” Cullen cleared his throat, slightly uncomfortable. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Suspicion rose in his chest; she could be waiting for a courier or an accomplice.

She smiled brightly, her voice low and soothing. “How could I sleep when there is this?” She lifted an arm and gestured, sweeping in a smooth arch to encompass the night sky. “How could I lay in a tent when such beauty is just outside?” Awe swept over her features as she leaned back, her hair cascading in a dark fall.

Cullen tilted his head back as well, looking at the view that intrigued her so. The velvety darkness held thousands of glimmering stars, a perfect canvas of scattered diamonds that shone brightly. He took a second before looking back to her. Her eyes remained fixed on the constellations, roving from one edge of the sky to the other. “Keeper told me, but I could never imagine.” She shook her head slowly, humbled by the lights.

The grass behind her had been flattened, and Cullen knew she had been laying on her back, looking up into the night sky. Had she been trying to count all the stars, just like he had when he had been young and as full of wonder? A sharper pang of longing and sadness drove through his chest. What would his life have been like if he hadn’t joined the Templars, had remained a simple farmer? Would he have retained his enjoyment of life? Would he not feel as old and worn out as he did now? 

A bitter taste rose in his mouth, recalling all those years he had spent angry, full of hate. Of his torture, and how his negligence had resulted in his failure once again at Kirkwall. Cullen closed his eyes tightly, breathing through the disgust, trying to press away the memories pounding at his temples.

“Won’t you join me, Commander?” Ari’elle asked, quiet voice breaking through the toxic spin of his thoughts. He blinked open his eyes, slightly shocked at her invitation. She smiled softly, gesturing the grassy spot at her side. 

He hesitated, almost declining her invitation. He felt on edge, but he also knew that this was his best chance to get to know her better. He wouldn’t be able to tell of any anomalies in her behavior if he wasn’t sure what she typically acted like. 

“Thank you, I shall.” Cullen took the couple steps closer, and sank down; shifting on the dry grass to get comfortable and so that he could see her moonlit face. While he moved, Ari’elle turned her attention back to the sky. “Varric and Dorian told me that there are many different constellations in the sky, and that different cultures have different ones.”

Her words brought up another thing he was going to speak to her about. “That is true. Although the stories have blended over the many generations, and what came from where is no longer obvious.” He cleared his throat, “Ah, I feel that I should warn you about Varric and Dorian.” Her eyes dropped to him, curiosity and questions written plainly in the monochromatic light. “I wouldn’t take everything they say as truth. Varric is a professional storyteller and Dorian… well… Dorian is just as capable of exaggeratedly embellishing a story as any writer.”

Ari’elle’s laughter rolled from her, amusement suppressed in the night as to not wake the others. “Oh, I know. I may be ignorant in many ways of your world, but I am not naive. I can recognize a tall tale when I hear one. In fact, I have a few of my own to share with those two.” She smoothed away her smile, adopting a solemn air. “Did you know the Elvhen built cities in the deep forest treetops? And that we perform a ritual beneath a new moon where we can transform ourselves into animals?”

Cullen could almost believe it; they knew so little of Dalish culture and capabilities. But the impish delight Ari’elle took in the lies was ill-concealed beneath her adopted mien, followed by an exaggerated wink. He gave a small laugh, imagining her pulling off the tales. Varric would instantly start casting characters into a new story, and Dorian would try to finagle an invitation to the secret rituals. “I can’t wait to see their faces.”

She turned back to the sky, studying the stars. “Do you know any of your constellations? I would love to know more of them.”

Cullen relaxed and leaned back onto his hands, one knee up while the other leg stretched over the ground. He could feel his hair rifle in the wind, brushing across his forehead, no longer tamed. He shrugged it off; it was late and his only company was an elf who didn’t know that a Commander was supposed to be perfectly put together all the time. It was a liberating feeling, and he let himself bask in it, throwing his head back and stared at the sky. 

“I knew many of them when I was younger, but I have forgotten most of them. However, this one is important to the Inquisition.” Cullen pointed out the stars, tracing the outline. Ari’elle leaned closer to him, sighting down his arm as he moved it slowly. “Visus, the Watchful Eye. It led Andraste north, allowing her to wage war against Tevinter. It is used in the symbol of the Inquisition, along with the sword.” 

Ari’elle nodded, listening silently as he told her all of his small knowledge. When he came to the end, she shared all of the ones she knew, of her people’s constellations, the great tree Fervenial and of Silentir, the elf who carries Mythal’s scales. Cullen knew these were not ones he had ever heard before, an interesting glimpse into a culture he didn’t know. 

They fell silent for long moments, each lost in thought. Cullen finally articulated the question that had been prickling him since they had first met. “Why did you volunteer to join the Inquisition?” She turned towards him, tilting her head to the side in question. “I mean, why would you leave your home, your clan?” He watched her closely, determined to pick up any cues to her motives.

She turned reflective, leaning forward and crossing her legs. She looked towards the Frostback Mountains, but he doubted she was actually seeing them. She absently picked a blade of grass, weaving it through the curls now tumbling over her shoulder. She didn’t even know she was doing it, Cullen realized, her movements reflexive from repetition.

Cullen let the silent moments pass, waiting for her to speak. 

“Have you ever had a dream?” Ari’elle finally asked. 

She didn’t turn to him, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer. But he did, compelled by the atmosphere, by her calm presence. “Yes.” _And I regret it bitterly._ Cullen had never voiced that, never told anyone.

She sat in silence for a little longer, then her words flowed from her, gliding out in a smooth stream. “In my clan, everyone has a purpose. The Keeper and _hahren_ provide knowledge, wisdom and leadership. The hunters provide food, and keep away anything that could be dangerous. The craftsmen create beautiful works of art, whether it be weapon or tool. The halla keepers make sure our animals are happy and healthy, our aravals strong. There is a place for everyone, and they are all happy in their place.” 

Ari’elle paused, drawing a deep breath. “But I was not. I didn’t have a purpose. I was a hunter, but I was rarely needed as we typically had enough, and I never much liked hunting animals. I gathered herbs and greens too, but we were never in desperate need of them. So I grew more and more restless. Everyone was happy with their lives; I would slip away. They all worked for the good of the clan using methods that have been around for centuries; I would seek out the unknown and explore.

“So when I had the opportunity to follow my dream, to learn more of what was beyond my clan, I jumped at it. I wanted to be part of your world, learn all that I can. Yes, I was scared, still am, actually.” She gave a little laugh, flicking her gaze to his face before looking back at the horizon. “But I couldn’t let it control me. And I will never regret it.”

“How do you know that?” The words were out of his mouth before he knew it.

She smiled self-assuredly. “I have been with you for two days, and I have already seen anything beyond what I could have dreamed up. I have seen the sky larger than anything I could have imagined, stretching so far that I don’t think there is an end. I never knew that there were so many different places in the world: Ferelden, Tevinter, Orlais, Orzammar. That food could taste so different and be so good. I love running, but I could never have imagined the joy I would feel flying over the plains on the back of Imperial. Or how heady grass could smell in the sun.” 

She grew more animated as she talked, but still kept her voice quiet. “I never knew a sunset could paint all you see in pinks and oranges. Or that there were thousands and thousands of stars riddling the sky, so many constellations overlaying them.” 

She swung around to face him fully, leaning forward, her eyes glowing with excitement. “I never knew humans would be so wonderful. Accept me, tell stories and share in laughter. Swing me up behind him on his horse and show me his world. Now, I know you don’t trust me,” Cullen opened his mouth, unsure what he was going to say. At this moment, there was no one he trusted more. 

“No,” She smiled slightly, shaking her head, and laying a finger gently across his lips, halting him. “You don’t need to say anything.” Her hand dropped away, a burning imprint remaining to tingle. “I know you don’t. But I believe that I can earn it, and in time we will be friends.” 

She tilted her head back to the sky, and his gaze riveted on her face. She was showing an expression he had rarely seen; a combination of confidence, serenity, and contentment. “This is my dream. And that is why I will never regret it.”

Cullen swallowed heavily, inhaling sharply. In the brief moments she spoke, he saw what she did, saw the world around him change to be extraordinary and new. One filled with wonder and life and possibilities. He was amazed, in awe of her. Before this talk, he had easily relegated her happiness as childish, her innocence as something that would be beaten from her as she became a woman. But that had changed. She was already a woman; one that knew herself and everything in it far better than he had ever known. In that moment, he had never seen anyone glow with inner light before.

He felt shaken, humbled. In the night, with only the sounds of life around them, he became far too aware of her. A loadstone he was drawn to, wanting to feel what she felt, feel what she had shared with him for too brief a moment. And he was scared of the woman, of Ari’elle. Scared of how much he wanted to stay exactly where he was and bask in her presence.

He tore his eyes from tracing the lines inked down her hauntingly beautiful image. He pushed himself to a stand, training his eyes on the faint glow of fire behind her. He wrestled with himself for a moment, before words tumbled out. “Thank you.” Insufficient to describe what she had shown him. “Thank you for…” 

He could feel her eyes on him, but he didn’t dare look. “Goodnight Commander Cullen.” Her soft voice shivered down his spine, understanding and soothing. “Sweet dreams.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice, and quickly left her sitting in the grass underneath an endless sky. And when he did sleep, his dreams were filled with the stars.


	12. Chapter 12

Ari’elle woke to the sun already a decent height above the horizon. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, a smile touching her lips as she looked at the light blue stretching in every direction above her. The tall strands of grass bobbed in the breeze, and her ears twitched to the sound of voices in the camp and the various sounds of people starting their day.

She pushed herself up, yawning widely and scrubbing her fingers through her hair. Her face pinched, a confusing feeling. Ari’elle scrunched her nose, bringing her hands up to her cheeks. Heat radiated from her skin, and she noticed that the backs of her hands were bright pink. For long moments she stared at the color, uncomprehending. What had happened to her? Her pale skin was pinkened on her upper arms as well. Crossing her eyes, she could see her nose was an even deeper shade, and painful to the touch. Based on the feeling in the rest of her face, her cheeks and forehead would be the same, and the lines of her ears as well.

What was this? And, more importantly, how did she make it go away? Now that she knew about it, she could feel the pain radiating from it, burning her with heat. The humans would know what it was, she decided, and stood up. She groaned as she saw the tops of her feet; pink as well.

Trying to keep her face from moving, she made her way back to the bustle of camp. Tents were being collapsed, belongings packed back away. She hesitated, unsure who she wanted to ask. The soldiers were just starting to warm up to her; she didn’t want to give them a reason to think ill of her. 

Dorian stood next to the fire, Varric sitting on a cot chair cleaning his crossbow. Bianca, she now knew. Varric had ‘introduced’ them yesterday. She had taken the ritual very seriously, knowing how sacred a person’s weapon could be. Although Varric had laughed, she had a feeling that he had been touched. The strange bow was dismantled, the strings being lovingly cleaned and placed back into position. Ari’elle bit at her _vallaslin_ , and then winced. Even her lips hurt.

She took a deep breath, then walked up to them. “Um, can I ask you two something?”

Varric looked up to her, then burst out laughing. “Oh, boy.”

Ari’elle couldn’t help the small distressed pull as Varric and Dorian stared at her newly colored skin. “What’s wrong with me? Why does it hurt?” Despite her attempts to suppress it, she could hear the hint of whine in her voice, would have winced if she didn’t know it would hurt to do so.

Varric set Bianca aside gently, crossing to her and taking her hand. “You have got a nice sunburn there, Red.” He led her to a seat, another of those barking laughs breaking from him. “Well, guess we found your nickname!”

“Really?!” Ari’elle’s pain vanished in the rush of pleasure she felt. She had a nickname! Did that mean that Varric thought of her as a friend? She smiled brightly at the dwarf, ignoring the strange tension of skin as she did. She wasn’t going to allow this little inconvenience stop her from enjoying the moment.

“Really.” Varric crossed his arms over his barrel chest, nodding gravely. He raked his eyes over her. “Matches the red in your hair too.” 

Red in her hair? Ari’elle caught one of her curls, pulling it forward to stare down at the strands. Her typical brown hair was still brown, but there were thin strands that glowed in the sunlight, highlighting a here-to-unknown color. The bright red was unusual, she didn’t understand; she had never seen it in her hair before. 

Dorian came up to her side, sorting through a few jars from his belt. “You have what we call a sunburn.” He unstopped on of the jars, taking a bit of the green liquid and gently started to dab it on her face. “It is what happens when you fair-skinned southerners have spent too long in the sun. Have you never gotten one before?”

Ari’elle felt an immediate soothing sensation everyplace the thick liquid was being spread, and she sighed in relief, turning her face up for the mage to work his magic. “No,” She said, closing her eyes. “I have never spent any time in the sun before. There are never many places where the sun reaches the forest floor.”

The smell of elfroot rose from the paste, and she smiled, remembering what she had told Sera several days ago. While the Dalish did make elfroot into a healing paste, it was different from what was now being spread over her ears. There was an enhanced cooling sensation in this, and she wouldn’t be surprised if the mage had added some sort of magic to it to make it even colder than typical.

Dorian finished her face, then commanded her to hold out her arms. While he worked, they told her about the liquid. “This will help heal your burn. And if we leave it on, it will help protect you from the sun while we ride today.”

The liquid left an almost solid green hue, casting her body into a strange creature. “I am going to look like some kind of monster,” she laughed, knowing she must look quite silly. “Won’t I stick to everything if I leave it on?” Commander Cullen’s fur on his cloak would not be safe if she continued to ride behind him.

Varric laughed, “Don’t worry Red. It will dry and look clear. Soon you won’t even know it is there.” 

Dorian finished his ministrations, including the tops of her feet. With a twitch of that impressive curl of hair on his lip, he dabbed a coated fingertip to the _vallaslin_ on her lip. “Don’t want to forget that!” He winked, and Ari’elle chuckled, working the liquid over her burnt lips.

Varric resumed work on Bianca, and the three of them joked while the camp continued to be torn down. Someone brought her a bowl of food, a mix of meat and eggs, again something new she had never tried before. Carefully trying to not smear any of the substance on her skin, she ate with relish, feeling herself wake up more, the low ache of muscles sore from use slowly disappearing. 

Commander Cullen exited a tent just across the way from her. Ari’elle lowered the bowl, smiling hesitantly to him. Last night, something had changed between them. She had thought they had been getting along, but he had left so abruptly. She so wanted him to like her, but maybe she had ruined her chances with her words. But… she had felt so close to him. Like there had been a real something between them.

His eyes roved over her face, and down her arms. A smirk lifted that intriguing scar, his handsome face relaxing into an amused expression. Relief poured through her. Surely if he was smiling at her current state, he didn’t dislike her?

“I know! I look like one of those creatures the Rift spawned!” She laughed, lifting and twisting an arm, frowning in exaggeration down at it. “They tell me it will go away as it dries.” She beamed up to him as he strode closer and collected his own breakfast.

“It will,” Commander Cullen assured her. “I have used plenty of it before. Your sunburn will be healed soon.” Ari’elle almost motioned to the other seat by her for him to sit next to her, but he turned, addressing Varric and Dorian. Then, without a backwards glance, he strode towards a knot of soldiers, eating as he walked.

Ari’elle watched his back as he left, a sinking feeling pulling her brows down. That had been… brief. Maybe he really was unhappy with her? Her heart sank.

She picked at the remnants of her meal, listening to Varric and Dorian talk. She gladly used the excuse of the final packing to help with the tear down of the camp. In too short of moments, though, she would need to approach the Commander to ride. 

The liquid dried, and true to their word, it had become invisible. She could feel the slight residue left on her skin, but she didn’t pay too much attention to it. Instead she stood in the grass slightly away from the camp, watching as soldiers loaded the last of their equipment onto horseback or stored it in the lone cart. She studiously avoided looking at the Commander, yet she somehow always knew exactly where he was. 

She was startled when Imperial, Commander Cullen on his back, broke away from the group, trotting up to her side. She blinked up at the human, watching as the sun burnished his hair into pretty gold. The Commander had an unreadable expression on his face as he looked down at her. It was a mask, different than how he had regarded her yesterday. Before last night he had looked at her with cool detachment and suspicion. She was right; something had changed between them, and she didn’t think it was for the better.

He leaned down, offering her his leather clad glove again. Not allowing herself to hesitate, she stared at it as she clasped it firmly. The rush of air as she mounted behind him was starting to become familiar, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling only the hard metal of his armor covered by the cloth of his overcoat. She kept her distance, though, sitting slightly back. 

They said nothing, turning back to the group and waited for everyone else to be ready to depart. With nothing to concentrate on, Ari’elle couldn’t help but think back to how he had looked last night. In the moonlight he had seemed tired, his face pulled with tension when he had first joined her. But as they had quietly talked, he had relaxed. His big body had sprawled on the ground next to her, wearing only cloth breeches and a loose shirt that had been open at the collar and split a little ways down his chest. She hadn’t tried to notice, but it had been hard to not look at the smooth muscles hinted there. She knew the ridges that lay beneath, but the true color and look still evaded her.

Should she have said something to him last night about how she had saved him? She nibbled at her lip, thinking back. There had never really been a good opportunity…

Commander Cullen’s sharp words cut off her thoughts, signaling time to head out. She tightened her arms around him, leaning a little gingerly into his body as Imperial started to gather speed. Was she holding him too tight? Not tight enough? Did he find it annoying that she rode with him? Maybe she should as Varric or Dorian if she could share their horse. Would the Commander allow it? Would he trust her enough?

She couldn’t keep her distress in place for very long though. The exhilaration of Imperial’s powerful strides, the sound of thunder as the horses galloped, the whip of the wind tangling her hair were too much to keep her down. She breathed deeply, feeling herself relax into the steady movements of the horse. A small laugh slipped from her parted lips, and she let herself be caught up in the moment.

They rode for a few hours, not stopping for a break. From what she had gathered, they would reach this Seeker Cassandra’s camp in little time. Too far to have gotten there yesterday, but plenty of time to make it today. Once they reached their destination she would be required to close the Rift they were guarding. 

Their ride was silent, Ari’elle feeling a strange tension between the two of them. So she contented herself to enjoying the view, and let her mind wander. She almost started humming, but thought the Commander would most likely not like it.

The sun was high in the sky when Commander Cullen announced that their destination was in view. Curious, she looked above his shoulder, watching the assortment of tents grow larger as they approached. Within a few minutes, she saw another group coalescing, smaller in size. A formidable figure wearing armor stood waiting for them, with about five or six soldiers behind them.

Imperial came to a stop before the figure, and Commander Cullen handed her down. Ari’elle quickly dropped to the ground, looking with wide eyes at the woman before her. Her black hair was short, cut away from the sharp angles of her face. A deep scar ran from her jawline up one cheek, the other graced with a smaller scar high on her cheekbone. She looked stern, tough, in charge, with her sword at her side and one of those shields strapped across her back.

“Cassandra,” Commander Cullen greeted her, exchanging clasps on their forearms. Ari’elle noted it; again he did not shake hands. She pursed her lips. There must be something she didn’t understand about shaking hands.

“Why are you here Inquisitor? There is a Rift for you to be studying and guarding.” Her tone was hard, questioning and disapproving. Ari’elle blinked, looking to Commander Cullen. Was she allowed to talk to the leader like that? But he didn’t look angered by the other woman’s words, instead turning to face her. She jumped slightly when their eyes met, his golden brown brighter in the sunlight.

“We may have a solution to that.” He gestured her forward, and she nervously stepped up to his side. “Mistress Ari’elle Lavellan, this is Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.” Her eyes wide, Ari’elle hastily stuck out her hand, like Varric had taught her. 

The woman narrowed her eyes on her, but she extended her own hand, her firm grasp shaking her hand only twice before letting go. “Pleasure to meet you.” She turned back to the Commander. “And what is the solution?”

“She is.” He gestured to her again. The Seeker turned speculative eyes back to Ari’elle, and she felt her spine snap straighter, wishing her hair wasn’t so tangled and that she wasn’t bright red. Something about the woman made her wish she looked as cool and collected as the other humans seemed to be. “Ari’elle here seems to have an ability to close the Rifts. Possibly the Breach as well.”

Ari’elle lifted her left hand, forcing a little smile to her lips, then frowned down at her palm when she realized that there was nothing there to see. She whipped her hand behind her back, clenching her fingers into a fist, hiding it from view. 

She turned her eyes up to her human, desperate for a reprieve from that forceful stare. He still had that unreadable expression on his face, but she thought his eyes softened at her slightly panicked look. He turned his attention back to Seeker Cassandra, drawing her focus away from Ari’elle. “We will journey to your Rift shortly, if you can provide a guide. I want to test Mistress Lavellan’s ability, make sure it will work a second time.”

The woman nodded and indicating that they should follow her. They turned and walked towards a large tent, one open to reveal a table with a scattering of map and parchment held down by books and figures. The two leaders immediately bent over the table, talking of the Rift and other issues needing their attention in the area. 

Ari’elle hung back, hesitating at the edge, watching them as they worked. They were so… confident. Assured of their tasks and what they were working to accomplish. Her eyes feathered over Commander Cullen’s form, admiring his warriors poise. She nibbled at her _vallaslin_ , wishing that he trusted her. She wanted to be… friends. 

Ari’elle turned her eyes to the woman, studying her as well. Although she was more than a little intimidated by her, she could already tell Seeker Cassandra was someone she could look up to. There was an air about her that Ari’elle envied.

They all of the sudden turned their gazes to her, and she jumped, eyes pinging between the two of them. “We will leave for the Rift in twenty minutes,” Seeker Cassandra told her, dark eyes flashing, her accented voice laced with power. “Does that work for you?” Her words were a question, but Ari’elle didn’t think it actually was. 

Ari’elle nodded her head, thinking it would probably be best to just agree to anything the two of them said. The woman arched an eyebrow at her, another look of disapproval somehow still sitting attractively on her face. Ari’elle realized that she hadn’t said a word to the Seeker the entire time. She opened her mouth to speak, frantically looking for the right words to say. Something about how her Anchor worked, or how she was happy to join the Inquisition. Maybe ask if she knew Sera, or how far this new Rift was. Anything…

“You’re gorgeous!” The wrong words blurted out, and she raised her hands to clasp over her horrified gasp. Seeker Cassandra’s face expression became harder, somehow just making her look even prettier. Commander Cullen sucked in a sharp, harsh breath that he choked on, his coughing and laughter an interesting mix. Behind her, other laughter filled the camp, Varric and Dorian having heard her impromptu words.

Seeker Cassandra’s cheeks tinged slightly pink, and she turned away, dismissing Ari’elle. Ari’elle fled back into the light of day, her human’s laughter following her. She didn’t want to know what color she was now; between her blush and her sunburn, she was sure she was indeed completely red.


	13. Chapter 13

Ari’elle sat on one of the benches in this new camp, face turned up to Dorian as he reapplied the green elfroot paste to her face and ears. He worked in silence, and Ari’elle took the time to watch Commander Cullen. He was moving among the other set of soldiers. They appeared delighted to see him and he looked just as happy. Calls of ‘Inquisitor!’ were met with handshakes and familiarity. Obviously he knew these men well, and apparently he did know how to shake hands… 

Her eyes followed him as he crossed the camp, taking note of how everyone instinctively looked up to him, would straighten and beam in pride. He held a strong but comfortable air of command, and his men obviously thought the world of him. The bright midday sun beat down on his hair, glossing it to a high shine, making him appear golden all over. She swallowed, feeling that new heat rise in her stomach, making her shift her hips. 

Dorian finished his ministrations, putting away the bottle. He turned, eyes following her gaze, then chuckled softly when he saw where she was looking. “He is a strapping fellow, isn’t he?”

Ari’elle jerked her eyes away, her blush concealed by her sunburn. “He is very…” she began, but didn’t know how to finish. The Commander called a group to him, and they spoke quickly. His tawny eyes lifted up, and caught her and Dorian looking at him. The blank mask dropped into place, and Ari’elle’s heart sank, but he motioned for them to join him anyways.

Quickly crossing to his side, he asked “Are you all set?” Ari’elle nodded, adjusting her bow on her back, checking the feathers of her arrows poking from the top of her thigh quiver. She felt self-conscious with her skin all green, fiddling with the fletching of an arrow. “Then we will head out now.”

They marched from camp, a small contingent of soldiers led by Cassandra, with her, the Commander, Dorian and Varric. She knew there were already some fighters at the Rift, so they did not bring more, instead leaving most behind to begin preparations for tear down. In case she succeeded in closing the Rift. She clenched her hand hard over the invisible mark, praying to the Creators that this would work. If it didn’t, she knew the Commander would be furious with her.

Although they had been traveling through plains, they were now in a rockier area. Their guides led them down a small gulley which increased in depth as they continued. Ari’elle had looked this way from the camp position; there had been no indication that there was a giant valley hidden by the tall grass. Perhaps plains were not so level as they appeared.

Ari’elle’s ears twitched, hearing the fighting before all the others. There was steadiness to the calls, no worrisome cries of terror or panicked shouts. She figured they had things well in hand dealing with the demons spawned by the Rift. But a particular laugh made her heart leap, blood pumping quicker as they picked up their hurried to cross the last bit of distance.

They rounded a corner, and broke into a large circle, the walls of the valley rising sharply around them. Once again, the area around this Rift was devoid of life except the creatures it called from its depths. Commander Cullen and the other fighters dove into the fray, his rallying cry of “Inquisition!” bouncing off the walls. A cheer rose up from the soldiers, renewed vigor in their attacks. And Ari’elle saw Sera, laughing that goofy laugh, her back to her as she deposited arrows neatly into a demon.

A wicked grin split Ari’elle’s lips, and in the commotion she drew her bow and nocked it, sneaking up behind Sera. After the other elf easily shot another arrow, Ari’elle let hers fly, striking the same demon in the head, killing it instantly. Sera gapped in surprise, and spun on her heel to look behind her.

“Ari!” She cried. “Might have known such a wildly lucky shot would come from one of you elfy ones.” She stepped to Ari’elle’s side, bumping their shoulders together.

“Luck my ass,” Ari’elle winked at her, saying one of the curse words Sera had taught her. “You know I can beat you any day of the week.” 

Sera snorted. “Piss off. Both know I’m the bestest.” They took up their positions again, knocking their elbows together and giggling. There was no real rush to the fight; the demons were outnumbered with the influx of new people, and Ari’elle would soon be closing the Rift… hopefully.

“Prove it. Bet you cannot hit that one’s upper back,” Ari’elle taunted, gesturing to a behemoth of a creature, different that the others she had seen before. She knew from talks with the soldiers that there were many different types of demons, but she didn’t know what they all looked like yet. 

Sera scoffed, bringing her bow up and sighting down the arrow. She sent it flying, and it caught the beast in the back of its shoulder, imbedding in the thick hide. “Psh, easy-peasy. Your turn.”

Ari’elle concentrated, and let her training take over. The beast was roaring, lifting his arm to smash down against Commander Cullen’s shield. Her heart gave a little start, and she breathed out, releasing her arrow when she was completely still. It struck its spine, distracting the beast enough that the Commander took advantage of it, swinging his blade into a deep cut.

The rest of the fight turned into a competition, each one naming a shot and seeing if the other could make it. Their laughter seemed a bit out of place in the clearing during the heat of battle, drawing the other’s eyes now and then. Sera’s crows of triumph were boisterous, and probably would have drawn one of the creatures to them if they weren’t all engaged with the melee fighters. 

Ari’elle gave just as good as she got, keeping up with Sera. But as more of the beasts were cut down and absorbed back into the Rift, the more distracted she got. When would be a good time to get close? Would she be able to do it again? Would her Anchor activate? Would she make Commander Cullen hate her if she failed? 

“No fun.” Sera groused, hitting her target, “You’re letting me win.”

Ari’elle’s arrow missed its mark, shooting over the top of the demon’s head. He was the last one, though, and fell quickly to magic blasts and sword cuts. With a gulp, she dashed forward, Sera’s ‘Hey!’ following her. As she approached the wavering light of the Rift, her hand started tingling in reaction. Ari’elle let out a huge sigh of relief, raising it to the magic she approached. That strange connection started up, and the air filled with the sound of the Rift reacting.

Pain prickled up her arm, a thousand little stabbings. Ari’elle scrunched up her face, chanting “ow” beneath her breath. She had forgotten how painful this was, like little tiny knives were working to break out of her palm. She gritted her teeth, waiting for that thread she could grab onto. Her upheld arm ached, and she braced her feet apart. Finally the strand solidified, and she pulled, ripping it out from the fade. With a final magical scream, the Rift exploded to nothing.

A smile beamed from her face, Ari’elle turned, the pain stopping as soon as the beam of magic was severed. Stunned silence filled the little quarry, before Seeker Cassandra’s voice filled it. “It seems you have a gift Mistress Lavellan.” Ari’elle watched as the Seeker and Commander Cullen approached her. The human woman’s eyes went back to where the Rift had been. “With your power, we just might have a chance of winning this war.”

Ari’elle felt excitement rise in her chest, looking to see her human’s reaction. A small smile made his scar lift, his eyes warmer than they had been all day as they looked at her. Ari’elle bit her lip, unable to stop the joy filling her. That strange mage who had given her the Anchor was right. She was accepted by them.

***

Cullen lay in his tent, thinking over their new charge. Ari’elle Lavellan was proving herself to be a valuable addition to the Inquisition, and his suspicions were fading. She was an open person, unable to hide her feelings through her expressive face. He was still awkward in her company, the impact of their nightly talk still echoing in him. He felt… restless, and he frequently caught himself trying to imagine what she saw, to see the world as she did. He watched the sky more, no long just scanning it for signs of enemies, but looking at the beauty of the deep summer blue, the bright colors of a sunset, and the endless spread of stars. 

She had found a strange bug yesterday, and carefully passed it around the soldiers, excited to share her new experience. It had been a large thing, a beetle striped white and black, and she had been delighted with it. The others had indulged her, smiling at her glee and making up names for it. Cullen had found himself wondering if she would like the butterflies that flitted through Skyhold’s garden.

During their trek from Cassandra’s camp towards Skyhold, he could see her becoming more relaxed, his people’s interest and friendship with her growing. She told stories of what it was like deep within the forests, painting magical pictures of the Arbor Wilds. Many feared the forest, the tales of hedge witches and maleficar roaming it were prevalent. Ari’elle painted it like it was idyllic, filled with huge beautiful plants and graceful wild animals. She had told them that she had never met any human mages in the woods, and answered any questions his soldiers would ask with relish. She wove stories of her gods, and spoke in that lilting language of the ancient elves.

She grew closer to Varric and Dorian, all three seemingly amused by each other. Ari’elle’s constant questions kept them on their toes, and they enjoyed the fuss she would make when she became excited over something they said. 

Her and Sera’s friendship confused him, Cullen had to admit. He didn’t particularly understand the city elf, her manners and words brash and combative. But when the two were together, they giggled and ribbed each other, obviously having a good time.

Cullen sighed, feeling ashamed with how he had been treating her. She still smiled at him warmly, asked him questions as she rode behind him, relaxed and undaunted. But he saw the wary look in her eyes, the sad pull of her lips she couldn’t quite hide. Cullen rolled onto his back, scrubbing a hand through his hair. She had done nothing to earn his coldness and distrust. It wasn’t her fault her words had made him feel off-balance in her presence. In the morning he would work on it, try to become a friend. After all, the Inquisition needed her.

He drifted off to sleep, ignoring the knot in his chest that had loosened with his resolution. He didn’t want to examine the reason he felt relief that he would be allowed to enjoy her company. 

Something woke him later that night, and he sat up, looking around the tent. It took a second for his brain to clear, he thought perhaps it had been his nightmares that woke him. The beats of constant heavy raindrops tapping at the roof of his tent finally broke through, and he froze. _Ari’elle._ In the week she had been traveling with them, she had never slept in a tent or underneath some protective covering. She would get soaked in this downpour. 

With scrambling movements he rose from his bedroll and lit a solitary candle. He threw on clothing and covered himself with one of the waterproof jackets the mages enchanted. Lighting a lantern, he crossed his tent, worked open the waterproof canvas, and stepped into the rain.

A summer storm had rushed in, rain drops large and heavy. Although the night was relatively warm, too long exposed to being wet would make anyone cold and sick. With a brief nod to those on watch, Cullen made his way quickly outside the ring of tents, looking for the small elf he knew he would find in the grass somewhere. The rain had been going for a little while now, mud kicking from his boots as he looked. Even with his jacket he became soaked, his breeches unprotected from the rain. With a quiet curse he walked quickly, her name rushing from his lips.

Finally his lantern illuminated a dark shape huddled in the grass. Ari’elle had her head tipped up, her hair a wet mass plastered down her back, her usual curls almost straightened with the water. Her arms were wrapped around her drawn up legs, conserving her heat. He came forward quickly, watching as she smiled broadly at him. Her sunburn had disappeared over the past few days, her skin pale in the light of his lantern. She looked so happy, but he could see her shiver. He shook his head beneath the hood of his jacket, “Why aren’t you in your tent?” He had to raise his voice over the sound of the beating rain, anger in the words, but he was still quiet, aware of those sleeping close by.

She lifted her face to the sky again, blinking as drops hit her lashes. “I do not have one,” she shrugged. “I did not know that rain could be so heavy! It rarely made it down to us beneath all the leaves.” She sounded far too happy.

Cullen crouched at her side, placing the lantern down, and started to remove his jacket to cover her. She was soaked through. She placed a hand on his arm halting him, her fingers wet and chilled. “No, keep it. I am a lost cause!” She laughed, smiling wryly down at her clothing. 

Cullen hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t known she didn’t have a tent, he had just assumed she had brought one with her and had chosen not to use it. He realized a large portion of his anger was aimed at himself, his failure to provide for one of his people. She definitely couldn’t remain in the rain without some sort of protection. He stood, grabbing the lantern and holding out a hand. “Come on. You can’t stay out here. You will get sick.”

She reached up and took his hand. He frowned as his larger hand enveloped her cold one, not liking how chilled it felt. “Come, quickly.” He pulled her towards camp, slipping quietly past the guards. He made a note to speak with them in the morning. They should have been looking out for her better, should have known to go find her and made sure she was alright.

He tugged open the flaps of his tent, pulling her inside and securing everything so no rain would enter. She wrapped her arms around her waist, her lips pressed together, and Cullen saw the small shivers she tried to hide. He gritted his teeth as he lit another candle. _She didn’t know,_ he reminded himself. _She doesn’t understand the weather._ He still felt the urge to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. She wouldn’t be so unprepared again. He would get her one of the special jackets; would make sure she had a tent. _And she would use it,_ he told himself fiercely. 

“You can’t stay in those clothes,” he commanded, tossing his jacket over the chair and crossing to his chest. “I have some you can wear.”

“I confess,” she sighed, “I would not mind dry things. Leathers are so uncomfortable when wet.” Cullen nodded, pulling a shirt out. He hesitated, looking back at her small form. His breeches would be far too large for her, and he didn’t think he had anything else she could wear. He frowned down, wishing he had brought more of a selection. Never mind that he had packed for a fighting expedition; he should always carry more in case of emergencies. He fished out one of his ruined shirts and tore a strip off the hem. She could use it as a belt.

He turned back to her, watching the water snake from her hair and drip off her arms. “Here,” he placed the clothing over his table. “Change into these.” He handed her the remains of his shirt. “You also need to get your hair dry.”

“Thank you Commander,” she smiled up at him, bringing the shirt up to wrap around the ends of her hair.

Remember his earlier resolve, he smiled back at her slightly, trying to erase the little hint of sadness that was now always there whenever she looked at him. “Please, call me Cullen.” He pushed aside his uncalled for anger, letting his features gentle.

Her smile grew slowly, warming her large eyes to a rich chocolate, that inner light he had seen only once before starting to glowing from her. “Thank you,” she sounded touched, “And you should call me Ari’elle.” Her beautiful smile beamed like a physical light, bright and unhindered. 

He nodded wordlessly, and turned his back, allowing her some privacy. He looked down at his solitary bedroll. She would need to stay here tonight, he decided, but he didn’t have another thing for her to sleep on. He snagged his overcoat and shrugged. He would let her have his bed and sleep on the ground. He had suffered worse conditions before. 

The sounds of the rain muffled all beyond the tent, creating an intimate atmosphere inside. He heard her rustling around as she changed, the wet splash of clothing as she placed her garments to the side. He felt the wetness of his own breeches and pulled out another set for himself. He would change when he blew out the candles.

“Cullen,” she said softly, “I’m done.” He tucked his overcoat and breeches over arm and turned.

He sucked in a harsh breath, freezing at the sight before him. She hand her hands up, twisting her hair around itself. His shirt had a v-collar, something he hadn’t thought about. And on her the opening came down to her sternum, the laces loose enough to reveal the inside swells of her breasts, teasing at their fullness. Even worse, her skin was slightly damp, the shirt clinging happily. She was still cold, he noticed dazedly, her nipples pearled against the far-too thin fabric.

His throat dry, he couldn’t stop himself from tracing his eyes down her, following the shirt down. It hung on her loosely, concealing the curve of her waist and hips. It stopped at her mid-thigh, and his too-large pants hung off of her, thankfully concealing her legs. Her toes peaked out from the fabric bunched around her feet, bare as they curled into the canvas floor. 

She yawned, and lifted her arms above her head, stretching mightily. The shirt opened just a bit more, and his eyes snapped back up to the exposed skin, hungrily tracing the lines as she unconsciously revealed even more of herself, the shirt hugging her pert breasts tightly. She dropped her arms back down to her sides, a content sigh escaping her. One of the sleeves slipped over her shoulder, exposing the delicate lines and pale skin. She closed her eyes, briefly wobbling as she fought to keep herself awake. 

Cullen coughed, twisting hastily away. “Socks,” he muttered, wincing at how gravely his voice was. Thank the Maker he had had his items over his arm. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks at his obvious reaction, cock almost completely hard from just looking at her. _Maker’s breath,_ he cursed silently. 

He found a pair of his warm socks, mentally preparing himself. He kept his arm over the front of his body, and turned back around. She smiled sleepily at him, and he kept his eyes up, not allowing his gaze to drop below her chin. “Here,” he fought to keep his voice even, “put these on. You take the bedroll.” He nodded his head towards the pallet in the corner.

She frowned, shaking her head. “That is your bed. I can sleep on the ground. I am used to it.” She gave him one of her impish smiles, which only made him more determined to provide her with something softer than the ground.

“No, please. Use it as an apology for not taking better care of you.” She frowned but nodded hesitantly. She took the socks from his hand, and he made sure their fingers didn’t touch. It was a silly thing, he acknowledged, but it made it easier. She crossed to his bedroll, and Cullen turned, looking at the candles on his desk.

She had laid out her wet clothing over the back of his chair, putting his jacket over the top, careful not to get the insides wet. He tried to ignore the sounds she made, but the tent seemed tiny now. He could reach her in just two steps. Cullen swallowed hard, taking deep breathes through his nose.

She finally gave a little sigh, her rustling stopping. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing if she was settled. She lay beneath the blanket, one arm over the top of it, tucked up over her chest and thankfully covering her breasts. Her hair was in a tangled mess spread around her head, eyes closed and her lips parted in relaxation, curled around herself for warmth.

Cullen frowned as he watched the flicker of light over her features, tracing her intriguing tattoo and lingering over the lines on her full bottom lip. This was… almost familiar. As if it were a distant memory. But he had never seen her asleep before. 

He frowned, blowing out the candles and quickly changing his breeches. He sucked in a quiet breath as he buttoned the dry breeches over his erection, adjusting himself as best he could. He settled on his back, grateful that it was dark. His… reaction was completely inappropriate, no matter that he was only a man. He couldn’t. Not with one of his subordinates, and especially not with one so clueless to the ways of his world. So innocent.

“Goodnight Cullen.” Her gentle voice whispered. He tensed, cock giving a little pulse in reaction. In the pitch black of the night she sounded as if she were right next to him. As if they were in bed together.

He adjusted the cloak, way too hot, but he kept it over his lower body. “Uh, goodnight Ari’elle.” He winced at how clumsy he sounded. The sound of her deep breathing seemed to echo through the tent, Cullen constantly aware she was right there. Oh, he wasn’t going to sleep much tonight.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I wrote about half of this, then my mouse died, lol. I couldn't finish it until I was able to get some batteries!

Ari’elle woke the next morning to an empty tent. She snuggled down onto the pallet, breathing in Commander Cullen’s heady scent. A secret smile brushed her lips. No, not Commander Cullen. He had given her permission to call him Cullen. He was starting to trust her. He had come out in the rain specifically searching for her. That meant something, right? That he was actually starting to like her?

Sounds of voices and noises as people started to break camp intruded into her little bubble. She sighed and sat up, knowing she needed to start moving. She had stayed awake late into the night, fascinated with the rain, but chilled by it. When Cullen had appeared from the dark, she had been startled by his care. She knew it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary with him, his concern. She saw how he behaved with his men and his friendships with all those around him. He was just a good man. 

She looked about the tent, debating what she should do for clothing. His too large shirt slipped from her shoulder again, and she pushed it back into place with a shrug. She supposed her pack was still in the cart under the tarp. She swung her feet out from the blanket, and started to strip his socks, but she saw her things sitting carefully at the foot of the cot. 

Ari’elle blinked. He must have brought it in for her, aware that she would want to change. She was touched at his thoughtfulness, surprised it had even occurred to him. She would have to thank him. 

In short time she pulled out new clothes and changed, her now dry leathers pulled over her clothing. She hesitated for a moment with the things Cullen had let her borrow. Should she put them back in his trunk? Hold onto them until she could wash them? They hadn’t come across any rivers of large enough size recently, but they were heading towards the mountains. There would be more water that way. But he tore up one shirt for her last night, he may need the extra clothing. She carefully folded the items and placed them on his bedroll, hoping that was the best idea.

Strapping on her bow and quiver, Ari’elle swung her pack up onto her back and pushed from the tent. In the bright morning sun, the sky looked as if there had never been a storm, cloudless and vivid blue. The ground showed some signs, little patches of mud that were not quite dry yet. And the air felt cooler and cleaner, the rain tamping everything down. She noted with some embarrassment that most of the camp was tucked away, already packed. She was holding things up. They must have known that she had slept in Cullen’s tent last night and had not wanted to disturb her. More things she had to thank him for. 

“Damn, Ari. Was hoping I would get to wake ya. Got permission and everything.” Sera grumbled behind her. “Inquisitor Metal Breeches made me promise to wait. Said you were to sleep in, that you might have got sick.” Sera tilted her messy blonde head and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Didn’t think you elfy ones got sick.”

Ari’elle chuckled. “Of course we get sick. I just did not know staying in the rain could do that.” The two fell into step, heading for the almost completely packed wagon. “Commander Cullen made sure I was alright.”

Sera crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. “He wouldn’t let me pour porridge on you. Would have been an amazing wake up call. Plus, then you coulda just started eating.” Ari’elle laughed aloud, easily picturing her friend doing that. Sera’s lips twitched, “Breakfast in bed. I’m so considerate.”

“I would like to see you do that to the Inquisitor’s bedroll. Something tells me he would have something to say about that!” 

Sera perked up, twisting her head to stare at Ari’elle. “His bedroll? You slept in his bed?” Her tone was fascinated and there was a touch of something in her words, a tone she couldn’t place.

Ari’elle frowned at Sera. “Yes. He insisted on sleeping on the ground.” She shook her head, “Silly human that he is. He should know I have slept on lots worse than the floor of a tent.”

Sera stopped, pouting again. “You mean… you didn’t sleep together?”

Ari’elle frowned this time. “No. We shared his tent.” Sera’s pout became more exaggerated, more disappointed. “Why? What am I missing?”

Sera flicked her gaze around and dropped her eyes. “Hoped you two did it. He’s so tight you could use him for a blank.” At Ari’elle’s blank look, she elaborated. “Ya know, jumped each other. Got slippery. Knocked your goodies together.” She rolled her eyes. “Sex, Ari. I’m talking bout sex.”

Ari’elle blinked at Sera’s blunt words. Then a sudden crash of pink exploded over her face. Sex with Cullen. Visions from the night she had saved him rose before her, of his shirt clinging wetly to his muscled chest, of his leather clad ass, of his tousled curls and big body. The Idea of being pressed against that golden skin, kissing those sensual lips, running her fingers through his golden curls. Moisture diverted from her mouth, and she shifted as she could feel herself grow damp between her legs. Unbidden fantasies played through her mind, before she vigorously shook her head and sent her hair flying. “No. He would never.” Not with her.

Sera took in the color on her cheeks and how flustered she was. Her friend looked… excited by the prospect. Not good. It looked like Ari was developing a serious case of the infatuations. And the Inquisitor would be far out of her reach. Humans didn’t stay with elves, especially not important humans and Dalish elves. Hoity-toits might dabble, but as soon as something serious started to build they lied and left you. If she continued on this path, Ari was going to get her heart broken.

Sera cleared her throat, throwing an arm over Ari’s shoulder and pushing her quickly towards the cart. “Come on sleepyhead. You’re holding everyone up. At this rate, Skyhold will be a crumbling stone heap when we get there.”

*** 

Varric caught up to Cullen during the bustle of departure, overlooked in the mess. Varric jerked his head to the side, away from the crowd, indicating he wanted a private word. With a frown, Cullen followed the dwarf, stepping away from Imperial and going a distance away. “What is it Varric?”

Varric turned and regarded him with an unusually serious air. “You need to be more careful, Curly.”

Cullen started in confusion, “What? What are you talking about?”

“Red. Ari’elle. Everyone knows she spent the night in your tent last night.” Cullen felt a fierce anger rise in his chest, and open his mouth to protest, but he was cut off by Varric. “Now, we all know nothing happened. You are too honorable a man and she is too unschooled to guard her reactions. But if you keep it up, there is bound to be talk. And that is something she doesn’t need just starting out.”

Cullen felt his anger fade, the logic of Varric’s words penetrating the haze. He was right. She would be lauded as their savior, a Dalish Elf. There would be some resentment to that. Despite the equality he was trying to foster in his army, change would not happen overnight. There were many who hated or feared the Dalish, and the fact that most would have never seen her ability worked against Ari’elle. There may be some that would feel anger, maybe even become malicious. The support of this group would do much, but not everything. Add to it rumors of their… interactions, and she would be mistrusted and looked down on.

Cullen heaved a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his neck and staring up at the sky. Maker, things had just gotten more complicated. How was he to treat her with kindness and friendship but not step over that line? This was the type of thing he hated. If he were just the Commander, people wouldn’t care nearly as much. But because he was Inquisitor… Especially if Josephine and Leliana still stuck to their ideas for him. 

“Thank you Varric. I will consider this carefully.” The dwarf nodded in approval, and they turned to slowly walk back. 

“Why didn’t you just stick her in Sera’s tent?” Varric peered up at him, as curious as Ari’elle was.

Cullen sighed. “I didn’t even think about that. She was soaked through to the bone and shivering. The only thing I thought about was making sure she didn’t get sick.”

Varric nodded his head slowly. “You’re a good man, Cullen. I will give you that.” He walked off, leaving Cullen alone.

A good man? Vividly detailed memories bombarded him of how Ari’elle looked in his loose clothing and how she had arched enough to reveal her dusky nipples through the fabric of his shirt. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to push away the images. No, he wasn’t as good of a man as he should be.

He lingered for as long as possible before approaching where Ari’elle stood petting Imperial’s nose. He pasted a smile on his face as he approached, doing his best to act normal. “Good morning Ari’elle. I trust you are not feeling ill?”

She smiled up at him, peeking through her dark lashes, a bright blush rising in her cheeks. “I am fine. Not sick at all.” 

Cullen’s stomach dropped at her blush. Maker, did she know? _No,_ he mentally shook himself. _She couldn’t._ He had given absolutely no indication that anything had happened yesterday. He was fine. He kept the expression on his face as he readied Imperial. “Good. All set?” She nodded her head, and he mounted quickly, offering his hand like he usually did.

She took it with no hesitation. _See,_ he told himself. She was probably just embarrassed about needing his help in the first place. 

For him, though, how he thought of her had changed once more. Her hand burned through his glove, delicate and warm. He felt her too keenly, how she adjusted herself on Imperials back, far too aware of her hands slipping around his body. He cleared his throat, quickly kicking off to lead. As they picked up speed she pulled herself closer into his body, her hips snug against his, her thighs alongside. Her head rested against the fur of his collar, a disturbingly enjoyable weight. 

Cullen focused on his surroundings, thought of distracting things. Two days before they reached the mountain path. A day and a half till Skyhold. At least thirty rifts had been located. Five villages requesting help. All the paperwork that would be waiting for him and the hours of meetings he would need to set up. 

If he took some Lyrium, things would be easier, that small voice in the back of his mind whispered. The hum of magic would distract him from his bodily desires, his attention focused on the way it would roll through his veins and the tasks before him. The unwelcome want made a gnawing hunger in his stomach open, head start pounding when he thought of the light blue liquid. Anger pushed away any of his desire. Maker he hated this. Hated the constant itch, the feeling that he was physically missing something. How he felt his body ache and creak without it.

They spent hours riding, the countryside becoming hillier, trees starting to grow, vegetation filling in. They could see a village in the distance, one the Inquisition had helped in the past, but they would not be stopping. It was too important to get Ari’elle and himself back to Skyhold. Behind him Ari’elle was fascinated with the mountains, and he answered her questions as best he could, please to have the distraction and that she seemed unaffected by their night together. 

“Something is wrong.” Ari’elle suddenly tensed, her voice low and concerned. Startled, Cullen slowed Imperial, bringing him out of his gallop and down to a trot. “Voices. There are hushed voices just ahead. And a strange tingle in the air.” Cullen pulled to a stop, looking at the layout. Vegetation grew close to the path as it cut into a rocky side, cliff overhead. Perfect for an ambush. 

Cullen instantly went on the alert, pulling Imperial around, and drawing his sword. He saw Cassandra tense as well, and she prepared herself, knowing without having to be told. The men followed suite, unsure what was happening but knowing enough to follow their lead. 

A screaming cry broke from behind him, and he spun, preparing for the assault. The enemy had realized they had been discovered, and they had broken from their hiding places. Red Templars rushed from the bushes, bodies twisted and grotesque with the red lyrium growing from them. Archers and mages stepped up to the rocky ledge above them, raining down destruction. 

With a cry, Cullen dashed Imperial forward, the war horse trained for these combat situations. They fought together, Imperial kicking out with his hooves, biting at exposed flesh while Cullen dropped the reigns and gathered up his shield. Behind him he could hear fighting occurring along the line, other Red Templars pushing from the dense brush in front of him, pushing through to reach those behind.

Cullen fought single mindedly, until he realized he didn’t see Ari’elle’s arms around his waist anymore, didn’t feel her body pressed to his. Pure panic rose up in him, only his reflexes saving him from a nasty blow. He twisted, looking to find where she must have fallen. Was she hurt? Had something gotten to her? An arrow or a bolt of magic?

However, he saw Ari’elle still sat behind him, just scooted back on Imperial to give herself some room. With concentration on her face, she pulled her bow back, arching her body backwards to send an arrow shooting up at the ledge above him. He heard a cry, and jerked his gaze up in time to see a body fall from the edge, already littered with several of her arrows. 

A fierce pride welled up in him, and he turned back to the twisted enemy before him. The woman could take care of herself. She knew enough about riding to keep herself steady as Imperial moved, and in turn Imperial knew she was there and took care to keep her on.

The fight ended quickly, the collection of their two contingencies more than the Red Templar’s number. If they had only had one, however, the fight would have been a lot closer, and more deadly for them. Cullen commanded them to move on, despite their injuries. Although there were some that needed some healing, this area was impractical for their needs and too unsafe already. 

They pushed on till they found a spot all agreed on, and set up camp. He helped Ari’elle down from Imperial’s back, frowning as she whispered her thanks, not looking him in the eye. She rushed away, over to help Sera where the other elven archer cursed, a cut on her leg. Cullen watched Ari’elle, concerned with how she was behaving. She wasn’t hurt, at least as far as he could tell. But she was pale. Her forest upbringing made her pale to begin with, but this was different. A pallor beneath her skin, lending a sickly air to her. Something was wrong.

He almost went to her to make her talk to him, but he caught sight of one of the soldier, leaning listlessly to the sigh. He vaulted quickly from Imperial, racing to catch the man as he started to slide sideways. Carefully, Cullen moved him to a safe spot, laying him out so Dorian could tend to his injuries. 

The next few hours were a blur, setting up a full camp to tend to their wounded. There were three serious injuries along with a dozen or so smaller ones. Ari’elle stayed with Sera, tending to the cut, bandaging it up and then cajoling the grumpy girl. Her levity was forced, he thought, her gaze kept darting to the injured men and back the way they had come, blanching even more. 

Cullen commanded a tent be set up for Ari’elle, unwilling to even think of her sleeping outside the camp. It was put up next to his, he noticed. He clenched his teeth, wondering what they meant by that. Was it just common curtesy, the Quartermaster placing the woman who held the Anchor in an important place? Or was it because they thought Cullen had an interest in her?

Night had descended for some time before he allowed himself to rest, scarfing down a quick hot meal before heading to bed. The men were stabilized, a combination of medicine and the mage’s magic working to help heal their wounds. With a weary sigh Cullen walked to his tent, briefly looking at Ari’elle’s. She had gone in some time ago, after Sera had retired. But she hadn’t come out to eat, and she hadn’t lit a candle inside. He pushed aside his concern. She was an elf. Maybe she didn’t need a candle.

He entered his tent, gratefully shedding his armor. The fight had tensed some muscles, and he worked through them, rolling his shoulders and arms. He glanced at his desk, then sighed and sat down. He needed to write a report on what had happened. He could do it in the morning, he supposed, but he might as well do it now.

Cullen pretended that he wasn’t listening for Ari’elle, for some sign of her. But after finishing his report, there was still no sound. No rustle of cloth or clatter of weapon, shuffle of feet. He sat back in his chair, debating what to do. 

Finally, Cullen blew out his candle, then snuck from the back of his tent. It was late, everyone exhausted. The only people who should be awake were the watch, and he hid, avoiding their posts. He stealthily crept to the tent next to his, feeling guilty as he opened the back flap, peering inside.

Empty. She wasn’t there. Cullen’s heart jumped, and he looked around wildly. She was outside again, somewhere beyond the safety of the camp. He turned and made his way in the dark. She must have slipped out the back of her tent. There was no other way she could have escaped unnoticed. He clenched his teeth together. He was going to shake her one of these days. They were obviously being targeted, and yet she still snuck off alone.

With as much speed and as quietly as he could, Cullen worked his way outwards. He pushed through some bushes before a small moonlight clearing opened up. A dark figure huddled in the very center, moonlight burnishing her dark tumble of curls. Cullen let out a relived sigh, his heart rate slowing at her figure. 

Something was off, he frowned, looking closer. She wasn’t looking up to the sky, he realized. Instead her head was down, buried into her arms. He approached her slowly, calling out to her quietly. “Ari’elle? Is something the matter?”

Her body tensed, but she didn’t lift her head to look at him, didn’t turn to smile as she always did. She shook her head, forehead still resting on her arm, her curls tumbling around her body. He slipped to one knee beside her, speaking soothingly. “Obviously something’s wrong. What is it? You can tell me.”

After a hesitation she lifted her head, still not looking at him. “They were human and… and I killed one.” A shudder racked her body, her voice wobbling. “I killed someone. His face… I cannot…” Silvery streaks started to roll down her cheeks, the moon highlighting her tears. Her shoulders lifted into a sob, and she seemed to shrink before his eyes, body pulling into herself as she grieved.

Cullen’s chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat at her pain. Without thought he pulled her into his arms, settling down and drawing her into his lap. “Shhh, sweet girl, shhh.” She cried out harder, curling into him, burying her face into his neck and wrapping her arms around his waist. He could feel her hands twist into his shirt on his back, her sobs wetting his chest as she pushed closer to his body. “Shhh, Ari. It’s alright.”

He rubbed one hand on her back in firm circles, a constant stream of words falling from his lips. He didn’t know what he said, only that he tried to ease her. Her tears hurt him; twisting his gut and hollowing his chest with each sob. He hated that she had to go through this. A bit of her innocence had been taken from her today, and his heart ached for the loss. Ached to give her back that purity. Ached because her future would only hold more of the heartbreak she was going through now. He should never have agreed to let her join. 

He pressed his lips to her hair, gently rocking her back and forth as he murmured to her softly. “It will be alright, Ari. You will be okay. I’m here.”


	15. Chapter 15

Ari’elle woke up in her tent, her nose stuffy and head pounding. She blinked in confusion. The last thing she remembered was clinging to Cullen desperately, sobbing all over his chest. A heavy ache pulled at her heart and she covered her face with her hands. 

 

Yesterday had been a complete mess. She had… she had killed someone. She didn’t like to hunt even when she had to, but knowing she had caused someone’s death... She swallowed at the lump in her throat, trying to push away the memory of the pain on the human’s face. His body had been filled with arrows that she had put there. And as they had ridden away, she saw the others, their bodies fallen around the ground, twisted with that unnatural crystalline growths.

 

That was the other big realization she had come to. She recognized their twisted forms, the glow of angry red from structures erupting from their bodies. She had seen it before. The human mage who had given her the Anchor had had some on his face, coming out of his shoulder. Somehow, someway, he was involved with the group that attacked them. The Inquisition knew who they were, called them the Red Templars. They were not new enemies, had fought before. And Ari’elle took an offer from one just like them.

 

She pulled back her left hand, looking hard at her palm. The Anchor seemed to be a blessing; at least that is what she had thought. But perhaps there was more to it? Was she actually hurting the Inquisition, hurting what they were working for? Had she opened up the way for something even worse? This boon she had to do in payment, would it be absolutely awful? 

 

She could always refuse to do it. He had never said she couldn’t, only that if she failed she would have to return to his service. Her teeth clenched in frustration. What would being in his service entail? Why had she not asked questions when he was making the deal with her? She was pretty sure she had been under some sort of enchantment while she had been walking in the Fade, but she should have been wary. Her lack of curiosity should have tipped her off. She should have known better. And now Cullen may be the one who paid for her carelessness.

 

He had been… so caring. His words had been gentle and reassuring, letting her cry out her hurt. He had held her without complaint, even though she must have soaked his shirt. Would Marron have been like that with her? Ari’elle instantly dismissed the idea. No, no he would not. Marron was too proud to let someone cry all over him. Maybe he would have given her awkward pats on her back, tried to give her some well-meaning but actually condescending advice. Cullen, though…

 

Ari’elle pushed out of her bedroll, swiftly dressing. This was not good. Cullen had been kind and considerate, nothing more. And she knew she was dangerously close to doing what she had never done before. Falling over that edge. Jumping in right after him, just as she had done the night she first saw him. Heedlessly and recklessly follow him down.

 

A thrill tingled through her, but she shook her head hard. No. She wouldn’t be following him. She would jump, and just recklessly hope that he followed her. She would fall, alone, and the impact would hurt worse than anything else she had ever known. He had never given any indications, had even only just started to be friendly with her. Her display of weakness the last few nights may have made her a burden in his eyes, pushed him further away.

 

Determined to act as naturally as possible, Ari’elle exited the tent, surprised when she felt dew on the ground. Closer to the mountains, the weather was changing. Things were greener, the mornings bringing dampness and a slight chill in the air. Up the slopes, Ari’elle could see the white layers of snow at higher elevations. Snow! She pushed her sadness to the back of her mind. Today, for the first time, she might be able to feel snow! 

 

“Ari’elle!” A grizzled voice turned her attention to where the Quartermaster walked up to her, limping slightly from an old leg wound. 

 

“Hello Quartermaster! Good morning!” Ari’elle knew that the title was not his name, but she found it so amusing. Where were the other three masters if he was only one quarter? The seasoned veteran went along with her happily; he liked titles, his especially. 

 

“Brought something for ya.” He said eagerly, pushing forward a pair of boots. “Snow’ll get cold, too cold for walking round in bare feet. Know all the elves in Skyhold wear em, figured you and that mischief-maker Sera would need a pair.” She and Sera _might_ have pulled a little prank on him, putting some coloring in the boot polish… but Ari’elle had somehow pinned all the blame on the other elf… and they believed her. Ari’elle knew that she would suffer from Sera’s retaliation in the next coming days.

 

Ari’elle stared down at the present, tears popping into her eyes. “Thank you,” she breathed reverently. It was her first gift from her new friends, her first gift of human origin. She could scarcely comprehend the enormity of his kindness.

 

“You’ll be needing these socks, I’m thinking,” Quartermaster continued, handing her a rolled up little bundle. “And the Inquisitor said you were needing one of these fancy rain jackets.” He draped a leather bundle over the rest. “Now, you best be putting on those today. We will be reaching up the mountains, and things will be getting cold.” 

 

Ari’elle nodded mutely, unable to tear her eyes from the bounty now in her hands. The jacket was fitted with buttons emblazoned with the symbol of the Inquisition. The boots were sturdy looking and, she was sure, practical. It had never occurred to her that the Inquisition would give her things, her very own treasures. 

 

Quartermaster chuckled at her dazed expression, going so far as to chuck her under her chin. “Don’t just stare at it missy! Try it on. Let’s make sure it all fits well enough to get you to Skyhold.”

 

Ari’elle beamed, and scrambled to where one of the chairs sat around the fire, plopping down next to Dorian. She pulled on the socks, having seen others follow these steps, then placed her feet inside of the boots. She wiggled her toes, feeling room, but not too much. With Quartermaster’s help and Dorian’s glib comments, she laced them up and practically skipped around the camp. It was strange, a heavy weight and enclosed feeling she was unused to. She was sure that would change, though. 

 

Dorian offered helpfully, “You could always just chuck them at an enemy's head. They look heavy enough to do some damage.”

 

Ari’elle laughed at the image, miming weights as she picked up her feet. “Or I could try to convince people to carry me. ‘Oh, I can barely move my feet! Will someone please help this poor, exhausted elf?’”

 

The jacket was too large, made for a human female, not for an elf. But Ari’elle didn’t care. The sleeves drooped far over her fingers and down over her knees, but she was assured that it was a good thing. The more covered she was, the less likely she would get soaked. The leather was lined with a warm cloth, and she could no longer feel that little chill in the air. 

 

“It will do,” Dorian sniffed. “But I have a better one back at Skyhold. One that would work wonders for your coloring. Bright red, in homage, I should think. And we must find you some clothes that are more comfortable, for when you are lounging around.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Do the Dalish lounge? No matter,” he waved a negligent hand, “I will teach you.” 

 

Ari’elle clapped excitedly, thanking him profusely. She felt her sorrow easing, the warmth of friendship and of their acceptance helping to lift her spirits. She couldn’t wait. She had never worn bright colors before. The Dalish wore browns, greens, some muted yellows. If the purple in Dorian’s beautiful outfits were any indication, humans had access to a number of rich dyes. She couldn’t wait to see them all.

 

“Thank you Quartermaster! These are lovely!” She spun happily, pleased at the look of approval on the old man’s face. “And thank you Dorian, I look forward to having your help!”

 

_You are learning new things every day,_ Ari’elle told herself, the weight of the day before easing even more. There would be hardships going ahead, but also laughter. Between Cullen’s soothing care and the friendships she was building, her future looked bright again.

 

***

 

Cullen smiled down at Ari’elle as she bounced over to Imperial’s side. He searched her face critically, relieved to see that she looked almost back to her usual happy self. There was still a slight pallor to her cheeks, but she was animated and laughing again. 

 

Last night he had held her and tried to ease her until she had exhausted herself, falling asleep curled into his chest. He still felt that band, tightening when he thought of her tears. He had kept them in the same spot, his hand carefully smoothing over her back until he was sure she was deeply asleep. Then he had lifted her, carrying her back to her tent and slipping her inside. He hadn’t dared light a candle; it would have been too easily noticed. So he hadn’t been sure how she had looked as he slipped her into the bedroll, tucking the blanket around her shoulders. But her beaming smile to him now reassured him that her spirit hadn’t been too damaged. No doubt she would still have some lingering memories, but her naturally boisterous disposition would help her heal.

 

“Look at what Quartermaster gave me!” She rocked back on her heels, showing off her new items. Cullen smiled down at her, thinking she looked far too adorable in the huge combat boots and floppy jacket that dropped over her hands, shoulders falling to the side. Just as his shirt had done; only he thought he preferred her in his shirt. Just in the shirt. 

 

Cullen hastily pushed away the thought, concentrating on the present. “Very nice. You will be well prepared for the last leg of our journey.”

 

Her smile faded slightly. “He also said that you told him to get me this coat. I need to thank you for that. And for helping me when it was raining and… for all the other things you have done for me the past week. I have not said so yet,” she licked her lips, making the pretty pink shimmer in the morning light, highlighting the black lines inked there. “But please, believe me when I say that I really appreciate everything.” She was earnest, her rich brown eyes wide and intent, almost pleading him to believe her. 

 

Cullen cleared his throat, shifting on Imperial’s back. The horse snorted and twisted his head around, eyeing him. He was sure that if the horse could, he would be raising an eyebrow at Cullen’s uncharacteristic awkwardness. “It was my pleasure.” He winced, and rushed out, “I mean, it’s my duty and honor to be of help.”

 

Her brows flickered down for an instant, but she pushed it away. Had she looked disappointed for a second? “Are you ready to go? It will be a slow journey, but we have much ground to cover.” She nodded, and he helped her up.

 

Pushing his awareness of her as far away as he could, they set off. Their journey would be slow, taking care to not aggravate the wounded men more than they had to. But with the Red Templars now watching for them, they couldn’t linger. They alternated walking and trotting, and it was in a slow and easy walk that Ari’elle introduced a topic he really didn’t want to discuss.

 

“What was wrong with those people yesterday? Why did they feel like they had magic, even though most of them were not mages?” Ari’elle leaned back onto her hands braced on Imperial’s rump, the smooth roll of gait allowing her to relax and not have to hold onto him. And that was invariably when she became more inquisitive.

 

Cullen sighed, and began some of the explanation. “They are infected with red lyrium, a newly discovered type that is aggressive and consuming.”

 

“Lyrium? I don’t know what that is.”

 

Cullen’s hands tightened on the reigns, teeth clenching. Lyrium. That ever present thirst roared to life, and he fumbled with his flask, taking gulps of the warmed water from it. It did nothing to quench the addiction; all it seemed to do was highlight the differences between the two. The cool, sparkling taste of lyrium versus the unsatisfying warm, metallic water. 

 

Cullen cleared his throat, determined to push past the need, ignore the grips it still held him in. “It is an ore, processed and delivered to those who need it by the dwarves. Mages use it to work with the Fade, and it can be used to enchant items as well.” He breathed deeply through his clenched teeth. “Templar’s take it to help resist and dispel magic. Use it to fight against rogue mages.” In theory. Or Templars used it to subjugate.

 

He could feel his body tensing, feel himself slide into memories. That bloody fight in Kirkwall. How he finally broke free of the tether Knight-Commander held him by. When her threats to withhold the lyrium he was so addicted to no longer prevented him from acting against her, and truly see what he had been complicit in. Despite being terrified of what the future would hold for him, he had finally done the right thing for the first time in far too long. He would atone for those years, he swore. He would.

 

Ari’elle stayed silent for a long beat, allowing him to continue. When he did not, her low voice broke through the destructive spiral his mind swam in, letting him focus on something else. “And red lyrium? What is so dangerous about it?”

 

“We are not completely sure, but we believe that it is lyrium that has been corrupted by the darkspawn taint. It is dangerous for many reasons, not the least of which is that you don’t have to ingest the ore to become affected. Just prolonged time exposed to it will cause harmful effects.” 

 

He thought back to his memories of the older Templars, watching as their minds deserted them, slowly descending into that senility. “Lyrium has been used to control Templars; force them to behave and obey with the promise of the drug. But it slowly draws a person mindless, unable to tell dreams from reality.” He noticed his voice had become monotone, reciting by rote that which he knew. “Red lyrium works exponentially faster, and will drive all insane.”

 

Long moments in quiet passed, before he felt one of her small hands rest on his bicep. He looked down at it, startled. This was the first time she had ever initiated contact between them, the first time she had reached for him. Her delicate fingers squeezed gently, and she whispered “I am sorry.”

 

Cullen turned ahead again, the warmth of her palm radiating through his body. Imperial moved forward confidently, ears swiveling around to take in the sounds of the gentle wind, the chirp of birds. He closed his eyes and breathed out the tenseness of his body, relaxing, unaccountably feeling a little more in control, a little less thirsty. Just with the knowledge that he was not alone; that Ari’elle knew he was tense and wanted to help him.

 

After a moment her hand slipped away, sliding softly back. He wished he were in a position to take her hand in his; he thought it would be nice, something to latch onto. He cleared his throat, finally answering her first question. “Red Templars are those that allow themselves to be consumed by the ore, actually seem to grow it from inside themselves. There is a benefit to it, an increase in speed and strength. But they become mindless, slaves to their leaders, the only ones who can control the growth of the lyrium.” Cullen felt a bitter taste rise in the back of his throat. “Corypheus and Samson.” Some day they would meet, and Cullen would stop this madness.

 

“Who are they?” Ari’elle asked quietly.

 

“They are the ones who started this mess. Corypheus created the Breach, allowed all the Rifts to open.” Cullen barked out a bitter laugh. “As crazy as it sounds, he is a human who lived a thousand years ago in Tevinter, and crossed into the Fade, made an assaulted the Golden City. He is one of the mages that doomed us all to the Blight, became cursed and twisted for his crimes. Somehow he was freed recently, and now tries to finish his goals. Because of his ambitions to become a God, the world will suffer.”

 

He would have been concerned if he could have seen the woman behind him. Ari’elle’s face paled, the answer to her worse fears confirmed.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very NSFW

Cullen leaned over his work table, fists white with how hard he gripped the edge. His head hung low, shoulders slumped and defeated. His dull amber eyes stared at the little box before him, open and waiting. The lyrium pulled him, and his mind twisted back and forth. He wouldn’t take it, he swore to himself, even as he felt the tremors in his hands, the unquenchable thirst. 

His talk with Ari’elle that afternoon had brought it all to the forefront. He had thought he was getting better. He knew he still struggled with it, but the cravings had not been this intense for some weeks now. But he couldn’t help think of this little filter he kept, unable to quite force himself to throw it away, cast aside the temptation.

 _Just this one,_ that insidious little voice whispered. _Just this one dose and that will be the last. We are almost to Skyhold, but we have already been ambushed once. The lyrium will make you stronger, more alert. Ari’elle is the one who saved you last time, and because of your failure sweet, innocent Ari paid the price._

Cullen’s finger clenched even tighter around the wood, and he yearned to punch, to break something. He didn’t dare let go, though, the pull of his addiction too strong.

_The nightmares would ease. You would sleep better, not look so haggard when you get back to Skyhold. What will your people think, seeing the Inquisitor looking as if he had been put through the meat grinder? Plus, you would be sharper, focus on the important things. You are strong enough to handle it just this once. After this, you will never touch it again._

Yes, strong enough, he thought sarcastically. Only focus on the important things. Like how the lyrium would hum through his veins, and the panic he would feel as it started to fade, focusing only on when the next dose would be taken. He sucked in a harsh breath, anger building as a fiery ball in his stomach, acid working its way up his throat. Oh yes, he would be more alert, his whole being becoming paranoid, constantly on the lookout for someone ready to attack him. Mages would once again become the target of his fears, unable to distinguish friend from imminent danger. He would treat them equally, convinced any second they would start what they had started back in the Ferelden Circle. 

Cullen could feel his rage building, and tried to breathe through it, think of the things that calmed him. His balcony back at Skyhold, watching the happily busy and purposeful way the people moved about below him. The ache a good practice fight would bring, satisfaction in the burning of his muscles. The grateful thanks of a people who had had no one to turn to till the Inquisition started helping. The spread of a star studded sky, an expanse that stretched on forever, admired by the small woman staring in wonder at them. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, he relaxed, shoulders loosening as he took deep calming breaths. That’s right, he told himself, he lost too much when he was addled by lyrium. He was happier now, more at peace. He no longer felt that irrational anger and fear; could enjoy the small things and beauty around him. He was better without it.

He finally loosened his fingers from around the desk, muscles protesting the movement. They had been locked down and spasming, he noticed. He hadn’t even been aware, far too in his head to pay any heed to discomfort. He swallowed thickly; snapping shut the lid and putting it in his chest, burying it under layers of clothing. 

He felt closed in, too hot despite the cool temperatures of the mountain air. With purpose, he pushed through the back of the tent, stepping into the darkness. Instantly the slight breeze always blowing through the Frostbacks washed over him, and he dropped his head back, breathing in the crisp alpine scent. Through the stunted trees, he watched wisps of clouds scuttled across the sky, highlighted brightly by the practically full moon. Cullen traced the stars, seeking out one of the ones Ari’elle had taught him. Fervenial, he remembered, the great tree. 

He soaked in the peace and quiet, letting the clean air brush the lingering cobwebs from his mind. The camp was quiet, just the stamp of horse’s feet, snores of some of the men, and the crunching of boots as the guards walked their routes the only sound from their tree enclosed area. Beyond the dry patch they had found, spots of snow lay thinly, preluding the fields that awaited them. High above it all, the wind whispered an ancient lullaby, and Cullen felt it caress over him, ruffling at his curls and the fur around his neck.

A stealthy shuffling sound made his lips quirk, and he could feel his scar lift. He shifted slightly, turning to watch as Ari’elle slipped under the back flap of her tent, carefully lowering it back into place. She held a small bundle under one of her arms, wearing those ridiculously sturdy boots and too long jacket. 

He had expressly told her not to wander from camp tonight. She couldn’t afford to sleep out in the snow, and knowing what he did about her, Cullen wouldn’t have trusted her to not do just that. She had never seen snow before, she had told him, fascinated with the cold white substance. They had rested briefly in a patch, and she had sunk her fingers in it and played around with it for so long that her hands had grown numb. Between frostbite and the potential for ambush, he had made her promise him to not do what she was currently doing.

Her innate curiosity, though, should have clued him in when she had mumbled an agreement not to sleep in the snow. She was far too inquisitive for her own good. 

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest, then spoke softly into the night. “Going somewhere?”

Ari’elle squeaked, slapping a hand over her mouth and jumping to face him. The bundle in her arms almost dropped to the ground, and she scrambled to grab it back up, her dark hair falling everywhere. Cullen tried very hard to suppress his smile, true concern causing him to keep his disapproving look in place. She really would catch her death sleeping out here.

“Cullen!” She breathed after she had gotten ahold of her package. She quickly stepped closer to him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Oh, I know I said I wouldn’t but please! I won’t sleep, I promise! I just want to see the snow in the moonlight.” Her eyes were dark in the night, but there was a silvery shine reflected in them, a mixture of moonlight and stars. Her bottom lip pouted out slightly, and Cullen knew the fine lines of her tattoo were inked there, not quite distinguishable in the darkness. But he could see the hope and pleading on her face, hear it in her voice. 

“Look!” She held out the bundle. “I am wearing the special jacket and my boots, and I borrowed one of the waterproof blankets too. I won’t freeze, and it will only be for a little while. And I will hear if anyone came close; I can hear really well.” She clasped her hands together at her chest, “Please?”

Cullen swallowed the chuckle that threatened to break from him, watching as her teeth flashed white, biting into her bottom lip. Her eyebrows knit, and she practically vibrated. That now too familiar clench in his gut pulled some of his amusement away. Ari’elle, begging up at him, pleading.

He turned from her, sighing theatrically, covering his response. “Very well,” he consented, voice barely loud enough over the wind. “Come on.” He walked quietly into the tree line, already knowing where he would take her. 

Ari’elle hesitated for a moment behind him, then swiftly caught up to him. “You’re coming with me?” There was a trace of something in her question, a hope that he tried not to read too much into. She was just surprised, that was all.

He nodded as he wove his way through the sparser underbrush, careful to keep quiet as they moved away from the protection of camp. “No one should be alone right now. Too dangerous.” He felt his sword at his hip, the dagger in his boot. She had nothing to protect herself with, but he would be her shield. 

Ari’elle said nothing as she followed him, her steps lighter and almost imperceptible behind him, despite her unfamiliar footwear. Within a few minutes’ walk they were far enough away that he stopped being so stealthy, and picked up his speed. They broke through to a meadow covered in a few inches of snow, and Ari’elle darted out behind him, racing across the substance.

He watched her as she breathlessly laughed, tromping in the crunching sound, dipping her hands in the cold and bundling it together into a ball. She tossed him an impish look where he stood at the border, arms crossed over his chest. Then she reeled her arm back and hurled the little missile at him. Cullen jerked in shock, stepping to the side only fast enough that it hit his shoulder instead of the middle of his chest. Her peel of laughter rang clear into the night, calling forth his own amusement. She really had remarkable aim.

He remembered the winters back in Honnleath, of playing with Branson and Mia while Rosalie tottered around happily. He had enjoyed those days of play, returning to their little cottage to a warm meal and warm family. Why had he ever wanted to leave that simple, happy life? Foolish dreams from a foolish boy.

Ari’elle finally stopped dancing around, spreading out the blanket in the middle of the snow field, and sat down, looking back at him quizzically. Shaking himself from his memories, he slowly crossed to her, sitting at her side. They didn’t speak for some time, Ari’elle seemingly content to look up at the moon and stars, occasionally dipping her hands into the snow and running her fingers over the icy surface. 

“It’s so cold,” Ari’elle laughed, bring her hands up to her lips and puffing on them, rubbing her fingers together. “It never got this chilly in the forest. Some of the other clans lived in the higher elevations, and they would get snow during certain times of the year. Never during the height of summer, though.”

Cullen nodded, “The Frostbacks are always covered in snow, no matter what season. Skyhold is surrounded by mountain peaks always topped with the stuff. You will have to get some warmer clothing when we arrive.” 

Ari’elle leaned forward on her knees, propping her cheek in her hand. She smiled happily at him, and Cullen darted his eyes away, up to the sky. How could someone be so happy all the time? Just yesterday she had cried herself to sleep, sobbing and clinging to him as if her heart would break. How did she just… forget what happened to her?

“Dorian said he would help me with new things, and he said he had a jacket for me! Bright red.” She sighed dreamily. “I have never had anything red before. I am excited to see what else he can produce.” She scrubbed a hand through her curls, pushing the heavy mass of hair over her shoulders. “He also told me that Tevinter is much warmer than down here, and there are places even further north that are blisteringly hot!” She blinked in wonder up at him. “Is that true?”

Cullen leaned back on one hand, dropping his head back as he relaxed. “It is true. Ferelden and Orlais are much further south than everything else, therefor colder. I have never been to Tevinter, but I was stationed in Kirkwall, in the Free Marches.” He chuckled slightly. “Even there it would get blighted hot, muggy during the summer and miserable.” She made an encouraging noise, her eyes trained on him. He let himself call forth the more pleasant memories of Kirkwall, describing the good of the city and the times that were not tainted with bad memories.

“So do all the people of Tevinter have those funny little curls of hair on their lip like Dorian has?” She asked him after a lull. 

Cullen couldn’t help but shake his head at his friend. “No, very few people I know are brave enough to do what Dorian does with his mustache. He is prodigiously proud of it, is he not?” They shared a smile, recalling all the times they had seen him swipe a little product over his perfect curls. 

“Is that what it is called? A mustache? I was always afraid to ask, afraid it would offend him.” Her eyes sharpened, and she licked her lips, sitting up a little straighter. “What is yours called?”

He blinked at her in surprise. He didn’t have a mustache. She fluttered a hand at his chin level, gesturing. “The hair on your face.”

“Oh,” Cullen quirked his brows up, scrubbing one of his leather clad hands over the dusting of his chin and cheeks. “Stubble, I guess.” He shrugged. “If it got any longer it would be called a beard and mustache I suppose. I don’t let it though.”

Her head tilted to the side, revealing one of her elegantly pointed ears to the silver of the moonlight. The bright fullness of the moon reflected on the snow, almost daylight with how clear Cullen could see her. She bit her lip for a second, worrying the fullness before she hesitantly asked a question. “May I feel?” 

A sharp kick raced through his gut, and he cranked down on his breathing. _She is just curious,_ he told himself. Not examining his motives, he nodded once, eyes trained over her shoulder as she carefully raised a hand and settled it against his cheek. Her hand was cold, her adventures in the snow chilling the skin, shocking his senses. Her delicate fingers spread, covering him from his jawline to his cheekbone, and she moved her palm down towards his mouth slightly before bringing it back.

A wave of heat rolled through him, contrasting sharply with the chill of her fingers, a clash that just accentuated the sensations. He could feel every inch of her hand; her long elven fingers, the callouses from her bow work, the softness of palm. “Oh,” she breathed, voice delighted and curious all at the same time. “It’s pricklier!”

Only the rigid control he had on his body prevented him from betraying himself. His jaw clenched beneath her fingers as he kept control of his breathing, and he knew she would feel the flexing. He paused for only a second to gather himself, before he said “Yes. It is. And your hand is cold.” He noted with some relief that his voice was only slightly husky, betraying nothing rolling through him.

“I am sorry,” her hand dropped away quickly, tucked from his gaze as he focused on the blur of trees beyond her. 

To distract himself from the icy hot heat still burning his cheek, he asked offhandedly. “Do elves not have facial hair?”

Ari’elle laughed slightly over the tension. “No. Nothing like Varric’s chest hair either. We do not have hair anywhere else except the tops of our heads.”

Cullen’s breath exploded from his lungs, a crystal clear image of what she had just told him popping vividly into his mind. If he had been standing, he wasn’t sure that her words would have laid him out flat. Hair… nowhere else… she was achingly bare. And she was blissfully unaware of what she had just told him.

A long silent moment passed before he trusted himself to stand, his loose cloak subtly arranged to cover the front of his hips, turning to disguise himself as best as possible. “It’s late, and you should warm up.” Cullen pushed aside his bodies’ suggestions of ways to heat her up. “We need to get back.”

A second passed before she murmured, “Yes, of course.” From the corner of his eye he watched her stand, and he slipped the blanket up from the snow, bundling it under his arm. Trusting she would follow him, he headed back the way they came, following their footsteps in the bright snow before passing into the trees. 

They silently worked their way through the brush, Cullen berating himself and Ari’elle a ghost behind him. His erection throbbed with each step, uncomfortable in the leather pants, but he didn’t dare try to adjust himself. They crept the last bit of distance, and Cullen hesitated. He handed her the blanket, and whispered lightly “Goodnight Ari’elle.”

Her lips parted, a barely audible “Goodnight Cullen. Sweet dreams.”

Cullen worked his way into his tent, closing it behind him. That’s what he was afraid of.

***

Cullen woke with his heart pounding, body aching. He lay in his bedroll, breathing in sharply as he tried to slow his pulse, to not think of what he had been dreaming of. His breath sawed in through his nose, and he swore he could still smell the sweet fragrance he had only partaken of once before. The morning after he had woken at the river’s edge, the floral scent lingering in the fur of his collar. For some reason it had come back to him during his dream; adding another layer to the sensual display.

In his dreams, Ari’elle had visited him. She had slowly worked his armor off, nimble fingers teasing over the buckles of his armor before slowly releasing them. She had stared down at him, fascinated at each new piece of skin unveiled to her eyes. Cullen’s cock throbbed, all too eager for her to touch his bareness, to relieve some of the tension wracking his body. But no matter how he had begged, she had never done so.

Now here he was, erection straining, the early morning light brightening the sky. Though there was no stirring in the camp, too soon there would be. He had to gain control of his body before then; they had to leave early to make Skyhold today. 

But as he lay there, determined to not think about anything except relaxation, his heartbeat still pounded in his cock, sidetracking every attempt to keep calm. Cullen kicked off his blanket, hoping the icy mountain air would cool his fevered temperature.

A slight breeze skimmed over his chest, and all Cullen could think about were Ari’elle’s chilled fingers from last night, gently brushing across his skin. He involuntarily heaved out a breath, the muscles in his chest clenching, hips thrusting into the air. _Fuck,_ he cursed silently. 

The sexual torments of the past few days had finally caught up with him, and save for a cold bath, there was only one thing that was going to make his erection go away. Giving into the inevitable, Cullen slowly reached down and grasped his cock, stifling the groan that threatened to break through his lips. 

Jaw clenched hard, Cullen set himself to methodical motions. It was just an exercise, he told himself. Just something to make his body settle down. There would be no thinking about… anyone. His palm dragged down his rigid length and back up, the shock of sensation tightening him more, and he adjusted his grip. Pre-cum already leaked from the tip, testimonial to how aroused he had been just from his dream. Using it as lubrication, he moved faster, his blood heating even more as he picked up the pace.

His mouth dropped open, eyes screwed tight as pleasure built, drawing his balls up tighter. His left hand, previously clenched at his side, moved sensually over his stomach, before he started to roll himself, tugging gently. The lance of pure energy up his spine made him gasp. 

In the tent just next to his, only a few steps and thin walls of canvas away, he heard Ari’elle shift, a faint stretching groan emanating from those lips that had become a siren’s song for him. Lust ratcheted up his need, and he couldn’t prevent himself from picturing her as she had been in his shirt, her pert breasts pressed revealingly into thin linen. Of her words last night and how she would look naked, completely bare to his gaze. The mental barrier broken, images poured through his mind, his hands no longer clinical in their movements. 

What would she do if she were here with him? Watching him? She would be curious, would want to learn what made him feel good. Her brown eyes would deepen to a darker, rich chocolate, and she would nibble at her lip, sweeping her tongue across the pink, swollen and plush. Would she offer her hand? _“May I feel?”_

Her words from the night before bore into his brain, and he gave a strangled groan. He flung his left arm out, grabbing some sort of cloth, and brought it to his mouth, biting down on it to muffle his sounds as he continued to masturbate. The clean scent of her hair drifted from the cloth; it was the shirt he had torn for her, the one she had used as a towel. 

Everything compounded, making it impossible to resist. It was her hand he felt now; the softness of her palm contrasting with those callouses on her fingers, dragging up the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock. He twisted as he reached the top, each bump against the glands sending sparks of pleasure through his body, and he raced for the end, picking up erratic speed. 

The thought of that pink tongue swiping over her lips, eyes locked on what he was doing, of her licking at the head of his cock and smiling sweetly up at him while her silky hair caressed his thighs pushed him over. He groaned her name as he came, muffled with the shirt. _Ari._ His hands were unsteady as his hips jerked, his palm wringing himself through his climax. His seed punched from him, reaching up his chest as he groaned helplessly, unable to stop as he came, harder than he had in years. His head felt light, dizzy, the pleasure too intense.

He finally slowed, the last of those spurts slipping from the slit of his cock. He dropped his arms to his side, breathing heavily through his nose as he still kept his teeth clamped around the shirt. When he finally had control of his breathing he took the shirt from his mouth, dragging it over his chest, cleaning himself up lethargically. With that done he tossed it to the side, and threw an arm over his face, buried into his elbow. He could hear Ari moving in her tent now, unaware of what he had just done to the thought of her. 

_Maker forgive me._


	17. Chapter 17

Ari’elle stretched with a groan, a tumble of unpleasant thoughts rushing through her head. Cullen had confirmed her fear yesterday, much as she tried not to think about it. He would hate her for how she was betraying his trust, she was sure of it. Accepting a potentially dangerous talent like the Anchor from the Inquisition’s primary enemy? They would cast her out in an instant, or imprison her. Surely they wouldn’t sentence her to death? She shook her head. Cullen wouldn’t do that to her… right?

She sprang from bed, pacing, lost in thought. Maybe if she told them now? Would they believe her strange Fade dream, how she was sure she had been enchanted? Probably not. Besides, no matter what this Corypheus requested of her, if it was going to in some way harm the Inquisition, she wasn’t going to do it. She had come to care for these people. Varric and Dorian were becoming her good friends. Cassandra was still intimidating and hadn’t seemed to warm up to her, but she was an amazing woman Ari’elle admired. Sera was almost just as new as she was, but she believed in what the Inquisition was doing. And Cullen… 

Ari’elle licked her lips. And Cullen. He was… Ari’elle dug her fingers in her curls, palming her head. What was he? He was a friend, she supposed, but she didn’t think of him like Dorian or Varric. He was more. He was kind to her, helping her with what she didn’t know. Patiently answering all her questions; letting her ride behind him every day. Concerned when he thought she would be in danger, but letting her experience the beauty that she had never seen before. All without complaint. 

Ari’elle clenched her fist, still feeling the rough scrub of his stubble from last night. Her hand burned from the heat of his cheek, the warmth that flowed through her as she had laid her fingers on his handsome face. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, bringing up the image she would forever remember. The strong angles of cheekbones and jaws highlighted by moonlight, blond curls burnished brightly, her hand resting on the hollow of his cheek. She had almost leaned in to kiss that intriguing scar, his curved lips, but held herself back, only allowing herself to move her hand. 

She didn’t think he had noticed her mistake, her surprised words. That fateful night when she had saved him, removed his armor and did just what she had done last night, drag her palm over his cheek. In the firelight, she had touched his stubble, the roughness enough to tingle through her arm. But his cheeks last night had been rougher, more prickly, and the tingles that had raced up her arm had then traveled down her spine and settled between her legs, making her feel wet, needy. Ari’elle swallowed, just remembering it bringing her to that same point. Her skin felt too small, and she shifted, an uneasy tension crackling through her. 

A groan made her pointed ears twitch, and she spun her head around, looking towards the wall that sat next to Cullen’s tent. A groan? Was he asleep? Was he having a nightmare? Ari’elle froze, her heightened senses listening to her human. Should she go over and wake him? She knew that sometimes it was for the best to let someone sleep through their nightmares, but she didn’t like the thought of him suffering. He was already dealing with so much; it was unfair he couldn’t sleep without being troubled.

Another barely audible groan filtered to her ears, this time muffled and quieter. She furrowed her brows and licked her lips. There was a rhythmic sound, she noticed, and his breathes had grown harsher and faster. She tensed to go to the opening of his tent, to wake him, when she heard another of his exhalations. But this one sounded more… like a moan. 

Ari’elle froze, her eyes becoming unfocused. A moan. She had heard those before, from couples passionately kissing, pressed to one another. Just before slipping away. They were an indicator of arousal, of attraction. 

Cullen’s breaths grew faster, that rhythmic sound speeding up. Ari’elle’s lips parted, her own breaths coming at a faster rate, her body heating up. She barely noticed as she slowly started to shift, her thighs pressing together, hips rolling. She ached; her breasts felt heavier pressed against her thin shirt, the cold mountain air beading her nipples into hard points. She grew wet, her movements coiling heat deeper inside her sex, tightening her skin. 

He was almost constantly moaning now, the air heavy with tension. A muffled word seemed to punch into the morning, and she grew dizzy in amazement. Was it… had he said… her name? Ari? Her breath rushed from her lungs, almost moaning herself, but she strangled it back, somehow sure she shouldn’t be heard. His muffled groans were now loud in her completely focused ears, constant as whatever was happening to him reached a high point. 

After what seemed a life-time his voice dropped away, only the harshness of his breath in the air. Ari’elle realized her own breathing was matched to his, a quickened pace. His slowed after a time; hers did not. She throbbed between her legs, and she was flushed, needing to move. 

Tearing her focus away, she paced, hoping that this excess energy vibrating in her body would dissipate. But with each step she took, that ache just coiled tighter. Cullen was silent now, or maybe she couldn’t hear him anymore over the blood rushing in her ears, the racing thump of her beating heart. 

She bit back her own groan, desperate for something. To relieve the ache, to calm herself. Something. But she didn’t know what to do. Going outside sounded good, rolling around in the snow fields to cool down. She strode to the flap of her tent, almost racing, but her promise to Cullen stopped her before she lifted the flap. He didn’t want her to be alone beyond camp, so she instead clenched her fists at her side and sat, breathing deeply. 

Her lips pressed together, she carefully breathed, turning her attention away from her body, counting slowly in her head. She worked on the exercise, breathing in time with her numbers, falling deeper into the trance. Keeper Solas had taught them to meditate, how to calm the body to focus on something else. It worked well when fighting; hopefully it would help her now. Ari’elle knew of no other way to calm herself down, to take her mind off of the man just a little ways away from her.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed while she lost herself in the breathing, her heart rate slowed and temperature eventually cooling. When she finally came back to herself, there was busy noise outside, the rumble of the typical morning routine. Warily she stood, heaving out a grateful sigh that the insistent throbbing between her thighs had subsided to a dull ache. 

Ari’elle flushed guiltily as she stripped her damp smalls, hurriedly changing into new ones, dressing for the day. She… had been unbearably aroused. For the first time, she had felt that intense chemistry she had always been waiting for. But she was sure it had been misplaced, reacting to a situation she had misunderstood.

With her mind clearer, she thought back. People moaned and groaned while hurt, dreaming, angry, not just when they were aroused. Most likely, Cullen had been groaning with nightmares; she knew he was plagued by them. It was why he always looked as if he needed a full night’s sleep, a lift from some of his burdens. And he had definitely not said her name; just silly hopes she had while imagining things. 

A foolish feeling settled over her, making her shift uncomfortably. It was so easy to twist things to make them what you wanted. And from that first night she had wanted, but it was now even more obvious to her. She wanted to be the object of his desires, wanted him to speak her name while in the throes of passion. So much so that she would ignore the obvious in favor of her wishes. She laughed shakily, shrugging off her awkwardness as much as possible. _Just set it aside, Ari’elle._

She cleaned quickly, ignoring any little recollections of desire that tried to announce themselves. She shoved it aside, focusing on her task at hand. They were supposed to make Skyhold today, and Ari’elle hated the thought of holding up everyone, preventing them from reaching it in time. When she finally opened the confines of her tent, she saw that most everything was cleaned up.

With sheepish smiles to everyone, she clumsily took down the tent, packing it away. It was still a new process for her, and she took longer to do the simple ministrations, trying to do it quickly but correctly too. By the time she finished, things were packed away, and she ran over to the cart, handing Quartermaster the bundled tent and her pack. Breakfast had been consumed already, but she didn’t much care. Her stomach was a mess; she wouldn’t have eaten anything anyways.

Steeling herself to her normal cheerfulness, she trudged her way over to where Imperial pranced, even the sight of his morning antics doing little to relieve the fluttering’s of her heart. Cullen stood with his back to her, broad and tall, a solid presence that she found herself gravitating toward. 

He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and Ari’elle felt heart pound harder. He looked exhausted. His hair was more disheveled than typical in the mornings. He usually did something to his curls to tame them, but after riding all day they would look as windblown as they did now. His eyes were sunken, his face pale. There was a distance in his expression, a disconnect, but he did try to smile normally as she came up. It looked forced, not genuine, she noted with concern.

“I’m sorry,” the words popped out of her mouth before she could think about it. He frowned, and opened his mouth, but she cut off his words. “I heard you this morning.”

Cullen seemed to pale even more, a flash of something came over his face before a mask slipped down. Just how he used to look at her in the beginning. 

Ari’elle dropped her gaze to her feet, her voice rushing out. “I heard you having a nightmare, and I didn’t do anything. I should have gone to your tent, woken you up. And I shouldn’t have kept you awake last night either.” She peeped up at his face, trying to read his expression. His gaze was focused intently on her face, brows drawn down. His eyes were darker, pupils larger than typical, hiding that wonderful honey-brown. A lance of heat speared her, but she pushed it away, her silly imagination creating daydreams. He was angry, wasn’t he? “I’m sorry.” She whispered out, wishing she had never snuck out, broken her promise, made him stay awake when it was so obvious he needed the sleep.

Long heartbeats passed, and Ari’elle could feel his eyes on her. She licked her lips at his silence, shifting on her feet. Finally he spoke. “Don’t worry about it Ari’elle. I have nightmares all the time. I don’t mind them.” 

Her heart twisted, concerned at his words. He turned to Imperial, mounted, and offered his hand, their customary position for her to jump up behind him. She followed their rhythm, feeling the heat of his hand through the leather of his gloves. Once she was settled, she gingerly wrapped her arms around him, trying to ignore the masculine scent of him, how broad his shoulders were, how big he was compared to her. 

They sat for a second, not moving, her arms wrapped around him as if she were hugging him. As if she was allowed to hug him without the excuse of riding. His voice rumbled through her, making her pulse jump. “You have nothing to apologize for, Ari. You have done nothing wrong.”

He called her Ari. Her heart sped up, and she almost let that fantasy take over her brain before she calmed herself. She bit her lip, and nodded her head against the fur of his collar, trying to ease some of his tension. Oh, what he would think of her if he knew the truth of her thoughts. He was too kind to be cruel, she knew. Most likely he would let her down gently, but just the thought of him knowing how she was feeling made her blush. She was grateful he couldn’t see her at the moment. 

There was a pause as if he didn’t believe her nod, and he sighed, clicking to Imperial to start moving. As they picked up speed, Ari’elle couldn’t help but notice the tension between them. It was palatable; almost as if it could be cut. She frowned, wishing she could ease it, but she didn’t know how.

***

Maker’s breath she had heard him. Cullen rode in a daze, unable to believe he had been so careless. Ari was an elf; of course she had heard him. Had he truly forgotten the fact of her heightened hearing, or had he deluded himself into ‘forgetting’. She had heard him and considered coming into his tent with the thought of waking him. The pure heat that had nailed him in the gut at her words told him that he was far from over this attraction. Had that been an outcome he had been trying to engineer? Entice her into his tent?

She had heard him. That wave of heat rolled through him again, threatening to make his cock hard. He focused as best he could on the jarring movement of the horse, how impossible it would be to ride with an erection. 

She had heard him, and hadn’t known what he had been doing. Did the Dalish not masturbate? Impossible, he pushed the question away. No teenage boy would be able to withstand such desires. He knew she was an innocent, but was she truly as innocent as all that? Did she know nothing of arousal, of undeniable need?

Maker, he could teach her. He could show her. Both his own and for her. _“May I feel?”_ Cullen scrubbed a hand over his face briefly, trying to dislodge that unsafe mental track. 

He thought back through their conversations, their times alone together. She had never flirted per say; all the things that could be categorized as such had been pure inquisitiveness on her side, words spoken with unintended meaning. Unless she was the world’s most amazing actress, she had never attempted to seduce him. No, Ari herself was what was drawing him in and making him crazy. How pure and lighthearted she was, how full of life and energy. He soaked it in, filled himself with it. He would count her a friend if it were not for the dangerous dragging lust that tightened his gut far too often. As it was, she was impossible not to like; she had won practically everyone’s affection so far.

Thank the Maker they would be reaching Skyhold today. If they were not, she would slip away in the night, and he would follow, helpless to her pull, to how he felt when he was with her. And if they were alone together beneath the velvety and glimmering night, he would kiss her; teach her about the passion that could consume two people. He knew that down to his soul.


	18. Chapter 18

The closer they got to Skyhold, the more Ari’elle saw signs of the Inquisition’s presence. Banners emblazoned with the eye and sword of the Inquisition were placed along the distinct trail. There were travelers making their way up the mountain, some with horses and carts while others walked, possessions carried in bags on their backs. They all raised their heads to watch the horses pass, but few seemed to realize who Cullen was. 

Then there were the Inquisition members themselves. Small knots of them were standing guard at strategic places along the winding road, and every time they saw Cullen riding towards them, they would jump into action. Wide smiles and smart salutes were matched with happy cries of ‘Inquisitor’ or ‘Commander’. He would always pull Imperial to a brief halt, conversing with each person, receiving short reports. 

Ari’elle would take stock of each group, curious to see these people who loved Cullen so. Most of the soldiers were male humans, with some females scattered through. But Ari’elle saw a small number of dwarves and elves as well, though no Dalish. They all came in different colorings, dark, tanned, fair. Their accents varied too; some sounded like Cullen, or Varric, or others like Quartermaster. No one had the same accent as Dorian or Seeker Cassandra though. Ari’elle nibbled her lip, wondering why that was. 

For all the smiles and good cheer the soldiers bestowed on Cullen, they gave her a different reaction. Most were curious; she would recognize that look, had worn it enough herself to know what that felt like. But there was suspicion as well, and some downright distrust as they traced their eyes over her _vallaslin,_ of where she rode behind their Inquisitor. Ari’elle swallowed a little nervously, feeling just as she had over a week ago when she first met up with her new companions. 

_Don’t worry,_ she told herself, giving them bright cheerful smiles, hiding her discomfort as best she could. _You will make more friends soon, and they will learn that the Dalish are not scary._

“At the next bend you will be able to see Skyhold,” Cullen turned slightly, speaking to her as he kicked Imperial back into motion.

“Really?” Ari’elle felt her heart jump, her excitement peaking at the anticipation. She couldn’t wait to see this castle, all the things she had heard of it just building her expectations. The soldiers had told her it housed many of their forces, had stables filled with horses, a huge main hall, guest rooms and staterooms, a tavern, an armory, and several towers. Considering most of the words made no sense to Ari’elle, she couldn’t wait to see what it all meant, how it all looked.

Holding her breath, Cullen eased Imperial around a sharp bend in the path, and there it was. A gasp left her parted lips, widened eyes unbelieving. “Oh my,” She breathed, speechless at the impressive display. “It’s… it’s…”

Cullen chuckled as they continued towards it, the fact that she couldn’t say anything was vastly amusing to him, it seemed. “It’s so big!” Ari’elle finally pushed out, and Cullen’s chuckle turned into a little choking noise, but Ari’elle hardly noticed. She was too focused on the structure before her. 

They approached the high valley the structure sat in, a soaring stone structure with a heavy wooden gate their destination. A bridge spanned to the castle, delicate arches stretching far, far down. Then came the walls, taller than any trees she had seen, topped with square towers that reached up even further. From their position she could just barely see the huge roof of some building beyond the walls, and the top of another tower, elevated further than all the rest. Flags fluttered in the constant cold breeze that blew through the mountains, and she could see tiny figures moving along the wall, across the bridge, standing guard. 

Cullen’s shoulders were too broad, the fur too fluffy, and Ari’elle had a hard time keeping her eyes glued on the building as they made their way up the trail switchbacks, growing ever closer. With a pat to Imperial’s side, Ari’elle scrambled up, kneeling on the broad rump of the horse, her hands clasping Cullen’s shoulders for stability, body pressed against his gently rocking back.

“Wha,” Cullen’s head turned, his golden stubble covered cheek almost colliding with her own. “Ari’elle! What are you doing?”

“It’s made of stone!” Ari’elle wondered, awed by the size. “My clan had come across Elvhan ruins before made of stone, but nothing near this size. None of the little houses we passed were made of stone!” Ari’elle scarcely heard Cullen’s words, too amazed at the architecture. “How do you make them stay? How do the stones not all fall out of place and crash down the mountain side? Does the castle get cold? Wood is much warmer.” 

“Careful Ari,” Cullen spoke, “Don’t fall! You would go tumbling down the mountain.”

Ari’elle absently slipped her arms more fully over his shoulders, clasping her hands loosely over his chest, her face almost pressed to those honey-gold curls. “I’m fine,” she said distractedly, before launching into even more questions. “How big is it? Why are the walls so tall? How long did it take to build? Are those windows? Why are they so tiny? Do you have water here? Where does it come from? Do you have to bring food all the way up here? Or can you grow it somewhere inside?” 

Cullen’s laugh built slowly, soon rolling from his chest, his shoulders rising in mirth. Ari’elle blinked, her attention finally turning to the human in her arms, amazement spreading through her. This was the first time she had heard him laugh like this, so unrestrained, and full of pure joy. An unconscious smile spread over her lips, warmth rising through her as his deep laugh echoed through the rocky valley. “Slow down Ari, I will tell you everything I can!” 

He turned his head and Ari’elle caught her breath. His eyes were warmed to a rich golden brown, so close she saw nothing but him, the shadows that had been there this morning chased away with his laughter. His lips were curled, his scar lifting. With the wind of the mountains blowing his hair about, he looked younger, carefree and relaxed. More handsome than she had ever seen him, lit with an inner glow. She felt the smile on her lips matching his, faces inches from each other. 

That heat built in her again, only this time there was a burning in her chest too, an answering glow around her heart. For a brief second their eyes were locked, the time stretching, spinning into minutes, hours, years. For that too brief, forever-long moment, Ari’elle felt wholly connected to him, like nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. There was only her and Cullen.

Imperial turned a corner, shifting their weight, and they both turn away, blinking as they reoriented themselves. Cullen immediately launched into explanations, but they washed over Ari’elle as she struggled to compose herself. She felt altered, like something had changed in her forever. What had just happened?

***

Varric rode in the back of the group, following Cassandra as they worked their way up the mountain. His eyes were fixed on the leader of their chain, watching carefully. Curly’s hands were slack on the reins, his attention obviously on the elf kneeling behind him, her arms around his shoulders, body pressed to his back. The dwarf felt the frown on his face, didn’t try to hide it. Despite talking to Cullen, the man wasn’t staying very true to his words of promise to try to keep speculation to a minimum. 

Varric had seen the wary suspicion on most of the soldier’s faces as they had looked at Red. Ari’elle was probably going to have a tough time reaching these people, and Cullen’s attentions were not going to help. Something was going on between the two of them, and it sure seemed like they weren’t even trying to be discrete. Maybe it was only obvious to his expertly trained eyes; no one else had said anything yet. But it was only a matter of time before the whispers started if they kept it up.

They turned to head the other way on the path above, and Varric watched as Cullen’s face lit up slowly, eyes unfocused as he listened to Ari’elle speak with barely a breath between words. The smile grew wider and wider until a laugh built, growing in strength and flowing down the mountainside to Varric’s ears. His expression turned speculative as he saw the weight on Cullen’s shoulders lift, eyes crinkle, the lines in his forehead smooth as real laughs poured from his chest. Curly looked… happy. Truly happy; the first time Varric could remember him looking like a normal man for many months.

Varric narrowed his eyes, a thoughtful gleam in them as he watched Red’s expression, watched as their eyes locked and held for a heartbeat before they both turned away from each other quickly. _Well, well, well,_ he thought silently. Maybe this was a good thing after all. 

***

Ari’elle flicked her eyes around the stone walkway, seeing the massive wooden gate raised for their passage, a collection of people dressed in Inquisition regalia, others in everyday clothing. A cheering and talking started up as soon as the shouts of Cullen’s return had rung through the castle. The courtyard they rode into was spacious, bigger than Ari’elle thought it would be. She peered around, still amazed, but there was a strange disconnect now.

She felt rattled, but not in a bad way. Not like when she had fallen from trees before; the breath knocked from her as the world spun woozily around her. It was the same in a way, still out of focus and breathless, but there was an elation she couldn’t stop. An elation that peaked, again and again, each time she refocused on Cullen. She was sitting normally on Imperial’s back, the easy walk over the bridge made her scoot back and drop her arms from him. It was too much to touch him right now. Cullen just was too… too large for her emotions. She didn’t know if she wanted to run away or throw herself into his arms and see if he would catch her. Both were terrifying notions.

They veered towards a wooden building inside the walls, and Cullen dismounted, getting caught up in the swarm of people. Ari’elle quickly slipped from Imperial’s back, dropping to the ground and avoiding looking at her surrounded human. She went up to the horse’s nose, gently petting the velvety grey hair between Imperial’s eyes. He pushed his nose against her shoulder, dropping down more fully into her touch. 

“Mistress Lavellan,” Seeker Cassandra’s husky voice pulled her from her repeated movements, and Ari’elle turned to face the gorgeous, intimidating woman. 

“Yes?” Ari’elle winced as she heard the slight squeak in her voice, still nervous around her, remembering the way she had embarrassed herself. 

Cassandra motioned her to her side, and she tripped over there quickly, someone running up to take Imperial’s bridle and leading him away. “There is much to do today. Come.” Cassandra pivoted on her heel, nodding to those who spoke to her but not stopping. 

Ari’elle flicked a glance over her shoulder to Cullen, a slight feeling of panic taking over. He was looking at her and gave her a nod. She turned, looking over her friends. Dorian sat on his horse still, looking impossibly perfect. Varric was down, stretching as he moved, complaining of stiff muscles and barrel round horses. Sera gave her a little wave from where she leaned against the wall to the side, out of the crowd. When Ari’elle hesitated, the blonde rolled her eyes, making a shooing motion with her hand, urging her on. Ari’elle licked her lips, then pulled her eyes away, rushing to catch up to the purposeful strides of the Seeker. 

All around her, the stone works rose up high, looking sturdy and ageless. There was a feeling here, something that echoed inside her. _Elvhan,_ she realized with a startled breath. This castle was Elvhan. Although it looked like nothing she had ever seen built by her people before, it held that barely there but undoubtable feel of ancient magic. She gaped around; it still baffled her, the sheer size of it. And what had her people been doing all the way up here? The old Keeper and Keeper Solas had never mentioned this before.

Ari’elle was so focused on looking around, taking in the buildings and the tasks people were engaged in, she didn’t notice the eyes focused on her. Looking at her obvious Dalish tattoos, her wild and unkempt hair, the too large jacket and boots she was tromping around in. That is, Ari’elle didn’t notice them until she was face to face with the two humans who were studying her. 

“Mistress Ari’elle of the clan Lavellan, meet the Nightingale and Seneschal of the Inquisition, Leliana. And this is our Ambassador, Josephine Montilyet.” Cassandra gestured to each of the ladies in turn, the introductions quick and to the point.

Leliana had nodded, arms crossed when introduced, and Josephine had dipped herself up and down briefly. But Ari’elle wanted to make a good impression, these two woman obviously important. Ari’elle swallowed the lump in her throat, sticking her hand out, getting confused who to offer to first. She placed her hand directly between the two of them, her wide eyes bouncing back and forth. They were both dressed so differently from the soldiers she had been traveling with, so prettily, Ari’elle couldn’t help but gawk. Leliana wore mostly browns, but with a deep purple cowl over her red hair. Josephine wore brilliant gold, rivaling the color of Cullen’s curls in the sunlight. A wide necklace with a large bright red stone sparkled over her chest and shoulders, a stiff board and quill at the ready in her arms. Ari’elle couldn’t believe the colors of their cloth, tempted to run her hands over them, see how they felt, but she knew that absolutely would be bad for first impressions.

Leliana reached across the awkward space Ari’elle had left, taking her hand in a gentle grip and shaking it like Ari’elle had been taught. “It is a pleasure to meet you Mistress Lavellan. We have heard of you.” Ari’elle blinked at the rolling tones of her voice, trying to place where she was from. Orlais, she thought.

“I am also pleased to meet you. Please, call me Josephine. It sounds like you will be of great use to the Inquisition. We thank you for your help.” Ari’elle traded hands to the tanned woman, marveling at her accent. This one was beautiful as well, but she had no idea where it came from.

“Ah, pleased to meet you two, too. I mean, as well!” Ari’elle rushed out, feeling awkward and clumsy. “But I don’t really understand this Mistress Lavellan title. Please just call me Ari’elle.”

A rattle of noise on the steps behind her made Ari’elle turn, and she felt relief flood through her as Cullen strode up. He looked distant, more regal and in command, how he used to look when she first met him. “Ah, Josephine and Leliana. Good. You have met Ari’elle.” He gave her a short smile, one she knew. Ari’elle latched onto it, taking comfort from it, the only thing that was familiar. It was too brief though, his eyes lifting away, attention back on the woman behind her. “Shall we all head to the War Room?”

With ushering arms, they led Ari’elle up the stairs, heading towards a massive door. On either side, clear panes shone in the sunlight, something she recognized. “Glass!” Ari’elle gasped, unable to stop herself from speaking in delight. “Oh, how pretty!”

Leliana heard her, and stopped, a half smile on her lips. “I didn’t know Dalish knew of glass. From what I remember, it is not a common thing to find among the clans.”

“It is not,” Ari’elle agreed, blinking at the brightness of the lowered sun reflected in the squares. “I have a little bottle, and my friend Sera told me about it.” Ari’elle nibbled her lip for a second, then blurted out “She said it could be colored. Is that true?”

Leliana laughed, and put a hand on her back, gently steering her inside. “Why don’t you see for yourself?” The woman gestured with an arm, and Ari’elle blinked, taking in the darkened interior.

She gasped, the room she had stepped into beyond her imagination. “Oh,” she said lamely, too engrossed in taking everything in to care if she sounded silly. The room was cavernous, her whole clan and their aravals could fit inside with space to spare. The walls rose high, the ceiling far above her head. There were several alcoves fitted into the walls, fires blazing inside them. A large assortment of people filled the room, with strange clothing and coverings over their faces.

At the very far end a gigantic chair sat up a several steps from the rest of the room, looking important and intimidating, spikes rising in a half circle from its back, the Inquisition symbol laid into it with gleaming metal. There was nothing else around it, barren as it sat alone. 

But behind it, the entire wall was done with gorgeous squares of glass. Ari’elle gaped in awe, so dazed it took her a moment to see the pattern in with the vivid colors. Repeating ovals of red and blue, detailed and intricate patterns that she couldn’t make out from so far away, set delicately in the glass. She itched to rush to them, see the colors, run her fingers along them. She wondered if the light would be colored when the sun came in from that side, if you could see the patterns on the floor. 

“Ari’elle,” Cullen’s voice pulled her from her gawking, and she turned to see him standing in a doorway to the side. “This way.” He held out his hand for her, smiling his half smile, the one she had seen him give her in starlight for several nights now. She released the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding and smiled at him brilliantly. Skyhold was a beautiful place, and she couldn’t wait to explore all its secrets.

As she reached Cullen’s side, seeing the softness of his eyes, how they darkened mysteriously before being replaced with his little smirk, she realized something. As much as she wanted to find out more about Skyhold, she wanted to become closer with the man who had changed her world so much. And that was both a heady and dangerous thought all wrapped up in one tall, broad shouldered, golden package.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I unfortunately have to be a responsible adult for the next several weeks. :/ That means I won't be able to post as often as I would like to. I will try to update about ever four days, but hopefully by the end of August I will be back on a normal schedule! I hope you to see you all in the upcoming weeks, and if you ever feel like chatting with me, my Tumblr is [ here!](http://cometeclipsewriting.tumblr.com/)


	19. Chapter 19

Ari’elle followed Cullen into a room barren except for a massive wooden table. The setting light was not enough to brighten the objects littered across the surface, so dozens of candles were lit in fancy structures around the room, brightening things with an amber glow. 

The four larger-than-life humans stood around this obviously important table, talking in quick tones. It seemed mostly that Leliana and Josephine were giving updates to Cullen, but he was also issuing commands, moving little figures over the board, consulting with the others. They were speaking quickly about Rifts, their locations, how many demons were around them, the number of soldiers guarding each one. The words flew over Ari’elle’s head, and it was easy to tune them out. Crestwood, Caer Bronach, the Hinterlands, Emprise du Lion, Suledin Keep, the Hissing Wastes, the Forbidden Oasis. Ari’elle focused on the enormous map spread over the surface, riddled with those little markers, papers, bits of odds and ends.

She studied the countries outlined by the gorgeous and detailed map, tracing her eyes over the expanse of Ferelden, Orlais, up to Tevinter, the Free Marches. So these were where her friends were from. She saw the marker for Skyhold, saw how tiny it was in the span of the Frostback Mountains, how small the Frostback Mountains were in comparison to everything else on the map. When they had been riding, Ari’elle had never imagined that anything could be bigger than the mountains taking up the horizon; now she wondered if there were things even grander. The world was much larger than she had ever imagined.

“About a month, I would say. She would be able to hit the most vulnerable places, close the Rifts putting villages in danger.” Ari’elle abruptly focused on the words Leliana was saying, realizing that they were about her. “I will send out dispatches to our people. The issues with the undead are a paramount priority. Plus, knowing that there is a way to close these cursed Rifts will boost morale and give her an edge.” 

“I will start drafting letters to send to the leaders of other countries; they may be more willing to acknowledge us now that we have a solution to their problems,” Josephine lilted, scratching away at her board. “One to King Alistair first, I should think. Ari’elle will be in his country, after all.” Josephine gave her a pleasant smile, kind but Ari’elle thought it was a bit superficial. Most likely due to the fact that they did not know her, that she was Dalish, an unknown to virtually all humans.

“A small contingent should travel with her. Fast and efficient.” Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest, looking to Cullen for approval.

Cullen frowned, a commander in charge of his troops, his brow wrinkling as he stared at the board. “The Iron Bull,” he said firmly after a moment. “Then Dorian, for any injuries that might crop up.” His golden brown eyes settled on her for a second, the first time he had looked at her since he had led her in here. “With Varric or Sera as secondary support.” 

A little bewildered, Ari’elle nodded eagerly, knowing she wouldn’t feel so lost if one of her friends were with her. She didn’t know what The Iron Bull was, but Dorian would be there at least, and she was relieved for that.

Cullen turned away from her once more, speaking to Cassandra. “She needs horseback riding lessons.” Ari’elle brightened at the prospect, turning eagerly to the woman, a happy smile on her face. “Ari’elle has the basics after our trip, but she needs to learn how to operate the reins. She will be able to travel much faster once she has that down, without having to ride with someone.”

“Agreed,” Cassandra nodded. 

Leliana turned to Ari’elle, seeming to see all her secrets with one look of her shrewd grey-blue eyes. Ari’elle felt her smile falter, somehow knowing she wouldn’t like the words that the cowled woman would speak next. “I would like a report of how your… Anchor, was it? works. We have several people who would be interested in learning more about such an ability. The magic behind it.”

Ari’elle shifted nervously, nibbling at her lip. “I… I, uh, don’t know how to write,” she whispered out slowly, her eyes down, staring at a blue smudge on the map. It was sort of shaped like a bunny. Ari’elle flicked her eyes to Cullen, wondering if he would think less of her for not knowing. He was frowning at her, and her heart jumped painfully. “I am learning how to read,” Ari’elle rushed out, hoping he wouldn’t think her ignorant, trying to raise herself in his estimation. “Sera has been teaching me. But I am not very good at yet, and… and I haven’t really ever written more than my name or letters scratched into the ground.” 

There was a silence in the air for a moment, before Cassandra mulled out, “From what I know of Sera, she probably wasn’t much of a teacher.” Ari’elle smiled, thinking of the negligent way her teacher would answer her questions. “Varric would be much better. He writes some amazing… he is a noted author.” Cassandra looked at Ari’elle fully, no condemnation on her face. “If it is your wish to learn, we can set up lessons for you.”

Ari’elle gave a little jump, pleasure pouring over her. “Oh yes! Please! There is so much to learn in books, and Varric tells the most amusing stories.” Cassandra gave her a small smile, one of the first the woman had sent her way since Ari’elle’s unfortunate words when they had met.

“Very well, then,” Leliana smiled “I expect you will be writing your own reports in just a few weeks. In the meantime, we will have someone transcribe your experiences.”

Ari’elle beamed at her for a moment before her eyes were pulled to the tall man next to her. She shared her excitement with Cullen, and he returned it with one of his half smiles, his eyes warming golden in the candle light. 

Across the table, unnoticed by either of them, Leliana’s eyes sharpened, taking in the pair of them, a frown tugging briefly at her lips before being smoothed away.

***

Ari’elle rolled on the bed, unable to go to sleep. It was late, and she was tired, but she couldn’t stand the room she was in. With a groan she sat up, combing her fingers through her hair, eyes taking in the little light from the embers of the fireplace. She had been treated well, placed in one of the important rooms, she knew. The bed was soft and opulent, more amazing than anything she had ever slept on, and she yearned to sleep on the mattress. There were vibrant, heavy curtains at the window, a large desk in the corner, a wardrobe awaiting her meager possessions and those she would be given. It was very nice, and Ari’elle couldn’t stand it.

She felt trapped in here. The window was flung open, but there was little fresh air coming in. The four walls of thick stone seemed to press into her, somehow stopping her from breathing fully. She felt like she was suffocating, the air too stagnant and oppressive.

Slipping from the bed, Ari’elle crossed to the heavy door, feeling the comforting coolness of the stone beneath her bare feet. Although Skyhold was high in the mountains, the summer temperatures combined with the innate magic in the castle kept things comfortably warm. She slipped from the room she had been given, and breathed deeply the crisp night air. 

Ari’elle leaned against the stone wall, looking out at the garden below her. There were a few figures there, even at night, their walks meditative and peaceful. Her eyes traced up to the walls, watching as soldiers walked routes, little bursts of light shining from regularly placed torches. 

Feeling antsy, Ari’elle made the decision to go explore. Her night had been packed, only able to do what she had been directed to do. But now she was free to discover, right? No one had told her otherwise, and she didn’t see anyone else being restricted in where they could or could not go. 

Ari’elle crossed back into the great hall, walking slowly through the now empty room, gawking at the furnishings. Everything was so beautiful; metal statues and thick cloths covering the floor. Huge fireplaces with fires burning, magically she was sure. She went to the colored glass windows behind the lonely chair, reverently touching the blues, tracing her fingers on the bright reds. She couldn’t wait to see them in the sunlight, see what the colors would look like on her skin.

Crossing out and down into the courtyard, Ari’elle could hear the laughter coming from the tavern, sounds of life plentiful despite the late hour. She smiled and almost went to the door, but she held back. She was feeling a little shy, hesitant to do the wrong thing. Maybe Sera would take her later? It seemed like a place the fun-loving elf would enjoy being.

With skipping steps, Ari’elle raced up the stairs, reaching the top of the walls. A soldier nodded to her briefly, but he didn’t seem unfriendly. If anything, he looked at her curiously, like she was a puzzle and something he had never seen before. It was different that the reception she had received earlier, and she wondered if word of her ability had gotten around, made people look at her differently. Ari’elle smiled and nodded back, but didn’t stop in her explorations. 

She crossed through the towers, her presence unimpeded with each new area she walked into. There were few people around this time of night, though she could hear sounds of people sleeping in the rooms above the ones she walked through. Ari’elle supposed that they would be used to soldiers passing through as they patrolled; all the doors were opened to the constant flow. 

She came to a tower that was different than the others, and she stopped to look around. A large desk sat inside, bookshelves half-filled to the side, a ladder leading upwards in one corner. The ladder was not different than some of the other towers, but the pristine desk was strange. Ari’elle smoothed her hand over the top of the cleared desk, pulling out drawers. Some blank sheaf’s of paper, ink, quills, and other things of that nature. It looked like it should be in use, just awaiting someone to sit at it and begin writing. Ari’elle ran her eyes over the books, unable to read most of the words right away, and she didn’t want to try to sound through them in the darkness. 

Her attention was caught by the dark silhouette high on the wall behind the desk, and she squinted in the shadows, trying to discern what it was. A spread of wide stone wings, flat face, a sharp beak. An owl, she realized with a start. There was an owl carved from stone mounted on the wall. She felt a pang in her chest, missing her four feathered friends. Would they look for her? Would they be sad when they couldn’t find her? Swallowing the tightness in her throat, she vowed to come back in the day, see what the true form of the artwork took. 

Ari’elle turned her eyes towards the ladder, and quickly climbed to the loft above. “Oh,” she said quietly as she crested, seeing moonlight stream into the room, highlighting one of the human beds. She carefully stepped onto the wood, afraid to wake anyone if someone slept there. As she approached, though, Ari’elle saw that the bed was empty, blankets folded perfectly, again looking as if it awaited use.

Did someone stay here? She spun slowly, looking around the room. Plants climbed up the walls, vines dripping into the room from the hole in the ceiling. There was a constant flow of air from the broken ceiling, giving life to the plants growing in profusion. A trunk sat against one wall, and Ari’elle crossed to it, lifting the lid. Nothing was inside. It looked unused, just as the room did. Biting her lip, she looked to the hole, gauging the distance between it and the glass windows set into the wall. 

A little impish grin spread across her lips, and she darted to the windows, opening them to the night. Using them as a step, Ari’elle shimmied up the wall, the stones artistically placed there acting as hand and foot holds to reach the roof. Her head broke into the night, and she smiled widely as the wind caught her curls, sending them streaming over her shoulder. She pulled herself up completely, and stood on the roof. 

_What an amazing view,_ Ari’elle thought, her feet slowly spinning her around, taking in the valley below her, the slight path they had followed as they had approached Skyhold. She could see the brightly lit mountain tops all around her, peaks reaching far into the distance, snow silvery blue in the moonlight. The hum of activity was muted in the breeze, the sky brilliantly lit above her.

Ari’elle lay down on the wood, tracing the stars as they shone brightly. They were closer up here in the mountains, almost as if she could touch them. She raised her hand, fingers outstretched. She yawned happily, relaxing into the familiar feel of wood beneath her, sheltered from the cool breeze by the stones that rose above the roof. She would talk to someone tomorrow. Maybe, if she were lucky, she would be able to stay here.

***

Cullen woke with a gasp, thrusting into the sheets, a vision of Ari’elle stamped in his mind. He gulped air for a second, reorienting himself to the unpleasant reality of morning sun and an empty bed. He dragged a hand through his messy hair, flopping over to his back. He sighed, trying to ignore just how close he had been to coming in his sleep, as if he were a young recruit again. 

The comfort of his own bed was heavenly after the month spent out on the road, and he had fallen asleep almost instantly. But, sleeping well meant that he didn’t have nightmares, which meant that he had dreams instead. Fantasies. A replay of the night beneath the stars with Ari’elle already touching him. This time her fingers had blazed a path from his cheek down his neck, teasing his chest and settling on his cock. With that brilliant smile she had rubbed him through his pants, bringing him to full hardness, asking with a seductive twist of those rose-colored lips “May I feel?” 

In his dream she had crawled closer to him, pressing her breasts against his chest as she worked her hand into his pants, fingers ghosting along the base before gripping his cock in her soft palm. He had cursed, scrambled to unlace his pants, shoving them down his hips. Then he had wrapped her in his arms, taking her backwards down onto the blanket, claiming her with hot, open mouth kisses. He had dragged his teeth over the tattoos on her lip, traced his tongue along the feathers of that arrow down her chin and to her throat, teeth catching on the delicate lines of her collarbones suddenly exposed.

Her hand had worked him as she laughed throatily, feeling how she affected him. He had settled his weight between her hips, thrusting his erection against the softness of her, unable to sink inside her, frustrated that he wasn’t able to feel her wetness, her heat, but still almost finding his release just from the feel of her.

Just recalling the dream made his cock jerk, moving against his stomach. Cullen moaned and clenched his fists. It was so tempting to work himself through it, just as he had done yesterday morning. The pleasure would be intense. Instead he briskly pushed himself to his feet, and crossed to the hidden balcony, where only the mountains would see him. He threw open one of the doors to the terrace overlooking the snow fields, the icy breeze cooling the beads of sweat on his forehead and bare chest. 

He gripped the stone railing hard, breathing through the heat boiling in his gut. Slowly the cool air did its job, and he released a heavy sigh, sinking into his shoulders, letting his head hang as he started to shiver. Maker’s breath, Ari was making him as randy as a schoolboy, as if he had never been tempted by a woman before. Granted, his experiences were limited… but he was a man grown. He shouldn’t be having such uncontrolled reactions to her, should be able to control his responses.

He pushed away from the railing, crossing back into his room and changed for the day. He would avoid putting himself into those situations, alone with her. It shouldn’t be too hard now that they were back in Skyhold. There was always someone around, and she wouldn’t be riding behind him for hours on end, wouldn’t be sleeping only a few feet away.

Cullen rushed around Skyhold all day; supervising training, discussing political matters with Josephine, rumors with Leliana. He spent several hours busy with paperwork, a never ending supply of reports and schedules. But he should have known it would be impossible to avoid Ari entirely; Skyhold wasn’t that big, and his luck wasn’t that great.

“Cullen!” Ari’elle cried, a pretty smile lighting up her face as she jogged happily up to him as he crossed to the stables. “I am so glad I caught you!” 

He felt his lips twitch, a pulling of his scar, an almost trained response to her presence. She was just so… bright, happy all the time, it was hard for him to feel negative around her. “Ari’elle, good to see you. How are you liking Skyhold?”

“Oh, it is wonderful. There are so many amazing things to see!” She fell into step beside him, her hands clasped behind her back. Cullen noted that she was barefoot once again, wearing standard Inquisition clothing, no jacket in sight. The woman seemed perfectly comfortable as they walked in the afternoon air. “Only…” 

Cullen glanced down, saw that she was biting her lip, hesitating. He looked away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. Maker, who knew that tattoos could be so erotic? Especially when paired with plump, curving lips. 

“I was wondering if I could change my room?” Ari’elle rushed out. Cullen stopped in surprise, looking down at her. Her room? She blinked her wide brown eyes up at him, looking adorable and far too innocent. “There is a bedroom in one of the towers, unused.” Ari’elle pointed upwards, and Cullen followed her gesture. “It is… more open. More like my forest than the room you so graciously already gave me. But… I wasn’t comfortable in it, it was… too closed. If it isn’t too much trouble, could I stay in that one?”

Cullen felt a pull in his gut as he realized which room she meant. The room with the broken roof, the one with the office below it. His office, or rather, his old office, from before he had been named Inquisitor. “Yes,” he strangled out, “It is empty. You may use it.” Ari sleeping in his old bed every night, slipping into cool sheets and laying back against soft pillows and a feather mattress, naked in the room he had once called his own.

“Oh thank you, Cullen!” Ari’elle rocked up on her toes in happiness, her excitement causing her breasts to bounce against the cloth of her shirt, no longer confined by her leather armor. “Thank you so much!”

Cullen closed his eyes and inhaled slowly through his nose. Andraste preserve him, Ari was going to kill him with her unintentional sex appeal. He forced a smile, and continued onto his duties, hoping the tedious tasks would push the entirely inappropriate thoughts from his imagination.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission piece I had made for the scene way back in Chapter 9!
> 
> Thank you [Feylen/ ](http://feylen.tumblr.com/) [ Jumeyle! ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jumeyle) It is absolutely stunning!
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://s25.photobucket.com/user/Cometeclipse/media/3.png.html)  
> 

“What are you doing?” Ari’elle cocked her head to the side, looking at the figure crouched on the wall, huddled down and trying to appear as unobtrusive as possible. He turned his head sharply, looking out from under his large, floppy hat, surprise in his expression. 

“You can… you can see me?” The boy asked, his brows furrowed as he peered at her deeply. 

Ari’elle blinked, coming closer to him and crouching down at his side, taking a position mimicking his. “Why wouldn’t I see you?” She looked down over the ledge, taking in what he had been looking at. The array of tents housing the wounded, a woman moving through the men and woman, administering aid. “Were you watching them?”

He kept his eyes focused on her, narrowed in concentration which than turned to confusion. “I can’t read you. You are too bright; it stops me. I can’t see beyond it.”

“Read me?” Ari’elle turned back to the young man, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t read your hurts.” He turned back to look down at those below, his voice low and chanting as his eyes focused on a man lying on the ground. “An ache pushing against skin. No, it is moving. Hand itching, but nothing to scratch. Gone, it’s gone. Everything is gone.” Ari’elle looked down at the man, noticed how he stared up at the sky, face blank and vacant. His arms lay uselessly at his side, his right hand missing below the elbow. 

She pushed her hair back from her face, realizing that the young man next to her had spoken as if he were the vacant man below them. Had he been… reading his mind? Vocalized what he had been thinking? What was he? She thought on his words, on his actions. “Are you… are you a spirit?” Keeper Solas had mentioned spirits could materialize on this side of the Fade, could be friends to mortals.

He turned his head towards her, and she took a good look at his eyes. Ancient, despite the youth of the face. Different and strange and full of life beyond. He was not of this world, Ari’elle thought with a little thrill. “I am Cole.” He turned back and looked down, a sad frown dipping the corners of his lips down. “I want to help. I try. But there is so much hurt.” He peered at her in consternation. “Why can I not hear you?”

Ari’elle chewed on her lip, “Maybe because I have no hurts?” She offered hesitantly, unsure how his gift worked. 

He stared at her for a moment before his gaze dropped to her left hand, and he looked at it hard. “It is bright. You have no hurts that are brighter than the mark you carry.” 

Ari’elle lifted her hand, examining the palm for some sign of the Anchor. But it was dormant, no light shining from it, no indicator that there was a Rift nearby. Did it hold some sort of internal brightness that the spirit next to her could see? It was not of this world, just as he was not; maybe there was a magical component to it that even mages could not detect. 

Cole’s voice started up again, the words starting slow and gradually picking up speed. “Bitter blackness. Why was it not me? Selfish, selfish. All my doing, all my fault. If I hadn’t gotten angry. If he hadn’t pushed. Why did he push? He shouldn’t have pushed. Twisting, back and forth, anger growing.” Cole’s eyes were fixed on a woman staring into the small fire, visibly tense even from where they sat above. “He was weak. It is his fault he ended up like he did. I left because he was weak. Not me, him.”

Cole dropped off, sagging as whatever connection he had to the woman was broken. He hung his head, the brim of his hat shading his face. “So much anger, so much pain. I can’t do anything.” His soulful, light eyes met her concerned, brown ones, sadness and pain radiating from him. “Why can’t I do anything?”

Ari’elle felt her heart tug, the hopelessness on Cole’s face making her shift, to try to think of words that would help him feel better. But she came up empty; anything seemed a meaningless platitude at this point. 

A sudden though sparked, and she stood hastily. “One second Cole; stay here.” Ari’elle dashed from his side and ran for the stairs leading up to the walls. She zipped around the patrolling guard, into the office below her new quarters and up the ladder. The two days she had been here, she had moved her things up above, but hadn’t unpacked any of it just yet. She rooted around until she found the packet, and with gentle fingers, she cradled her possession as she ran back, hoping he would still be there.

Cole still crouched in the same position, concentrated worry on his face. “Cole,” she called gently, drawing him from his view. “Come with me.” She held out a hand to the younger man, a small, gentle smile on her face. 

His eyes flicked warily between her hand and her face, before he allowed himself to reach out his hand. Ari’elle smiled brilliantly and pulled him to his feet, pulling him away from the pain down below, a destination in mind. They traveled up the stairs and through the bustling Main Hall, almost no attention paid to the slight elf and the boy, their presence quickly forgotten. 

Ari’elle pushed through to the garden, looked around briefly, then marched to a little used corner next to the marble gazebo. There was rich dirt there, but no plants, no vegetation. It was deserted, waiting for a touch to bring it to life. 

“Here,” Ari’elle crouched, combing her fingers through the soil, testing its feel. She smiled at Cole as he knelt beside her, looking intrigued at her cryptic behavior. “Hold out your hands.”

Cole obeyed instantly, cupping his hands together. Ari’elle opened her packet of seeds, carefully letting some trickle out into his hands. “Seeds, from my forest.” She plucked one up, examining it. “This one is an elfroot seed.” With practiced maneuvers she prepared the dirt, creating a pocket for the seed to slip into. “When it has grown, you pick the leaves and use them in a paste or a potion. It is a pain soother, medicinal and calming.” 

Ari’elle turned back, sorting through the others, pulling another one out. “This is rashvine nettle. Its leaves can be used to increase magical ability, and to provide a boost to your endurance, protecting you from damage.” She showed him how to plant it, smoothing the soil back over the seed. 

They continued in this vein, Ari’elle pointing out the benefits of her collection of herbs, showing him how to plant the different ones, the depths and amounts for each type. In a few minutes they were working quietly side by side, kneeling in the fresh, clean dirt, listening to the gentle hum of voices, the wind rustling the trees, birds chirping merrily. “There are other ways to help,” Ari’elle spoke quietly, soothingly. “Ways that can help you too.”

She glanced at Cole, a happy smile spreading over her lips as she saw his own small smile, tender and gentle as he looked at each seed, carefully putting them into place and covering them. “We will water them, and they will grow, providing more seeds, more leaves. More ways to help.” 

Ari’elle turned back to her task, a special set waiting for her attention. She sighed in happiness as she planted the large seeds of the Moon Flower, excited to see her favorites, imagining how they would look in a few months’ time. They would bloom, a favorite part of home, the beautiful floral fragrance available for all.

Cole stood and disappeared for a minute, returning with a watering can from somewhere. He smiled at her as the water trickled down of the freshly planted seeds, giving them life, substance for them to grow. Ari’elle rocked back on her heels and beamed up at him. She knew she had just made another friend.

***

Cullen sat back in his chair with a sigh, feeling both weary and agitated at the same time. He glanced at the remaining reports on his desk, but aggravated disgust rose in him. He had a headache, had been constantly on the move since returning to Skyhold last week, and the piles of paperwork awaiting him just made him want to stab things.

He felt anger try to boil in his stomach, knew the pull of addiction as he thought of the blankness that would come with a fresh dose of lyrium. He roughly pushed back from his desk, crossing to the doors leading to one of his favorite places, the balcony overlooking the inner workings of Skyhold.

The cold air was a welcome slap, jerking his senses to focus on the late night air, not on himself. He curled his fingers around the stone of the railing, breathing deeply. The anger ebbed, Cullen slowly working on loosening muscles he hadn’t realized he had tensed. 

It was late, quiet. He could see the shadows of patrols, but no voices reached him this high up. He relaxed, settling his arms loosely across the railing and slumping forward, looking down at the tavern, still bright. A few of the windows in the encircling towers glowed with light, residents still wake despite how late the hour was. 

Like a loadstone, his eyes turned to his old office, looking for signs of Ari’elle. It was dark; he noted with uncountable disappointment. She must be asleep. Cullen realized he was still looking, eyes tracing the doors and windows despite the fact he knew there would be nothing to see. With a sharp sigh, he dropped his head forward, an unruly curl falling over his forehead, surrendering to the inevitable.

He missed Ari’elle. Was that even possible? To miss someone who he saw every day, spoke to at least for a little while? She always lit up brilliantly when she saw him, a wide smile breaking over that seductress’s mouth, her brown eyes sparkling as she bounded up to him. He couldn’t help but respond in kind; she was bright and good and full of energy and he always felt lighter in her presence. But they didn’t have time together anymore, just the two of them. No conversations on horseback, no nightly meetings under the darkened sky.

It didn’t help his attempts to put her from his mind that she was everywhere. In the Main Hall, getting reading and writing lessons from Varric. Out in the courtyard, playing target practice games with Sera, Varric, and the men. He was told that she visited the stables every day, Blackwall giving her riding lessons. Cullen had been right; she was catching on very quickly. Although she rode a smaller mare picked out for her, she still spent great time with Imperial. Blackwall said Imperial had never gleamed so brightly before or had ever been as spoiled with treats. 

One evening she and Sera had descended on the kitchens, Ari’elle proudly bearing a whisk from her personal collection, and asked to be taught how to make cookies. The cooks had been aghast at first, but Ari’elle’s enthusiasm had overcome their trepidation, and for the next three days there had been cookies and cakes for all the soldiers. Some of the concoctions had been interesting, but for the most part the cooks had made sure those that were served were edible.

She and the spirit boy Cole had commandeered a small portion of the garden, and he would see her there in the afternoons, the sunlight picking up the red highlights in her curls, her feet and hands covered in dirt. Ari’elle had talked great lengths with their herbalist, telling her all about the Dalish knowledge of medicine, their remedies and favorite plants. Their exchange of ideas had produced a list, and there was now an assortment of new things being grown or sought. A riot of greenery was sure to flourish in the coming weeks.

Dagna had semi-kidnapped Ari’elle yesterday; a long discussion and tests and theories had taken place in Undercroft. Ari’elle had looked relieved when she escaped the enthusiastic dwarf’s questions, frowning uncomfortably as she had rushed away. 

Throughout it all, Cullen had tried to keep his distance. He tried to remember the words spoken with Varric, how she would have difficulties being accepted if people suspected something between the two of them. It had been difficult though, keeping the balance between friendly and too much. He would force himself to pull away from her after a few minutes, seeing the disappointed look she would hastily cover with a smile. Wherever he went, he would scan for her, anticipation making him look forward to his tasks.

He had found himself in the library earlier in the week, looking through the books, pulling any that had to do with the stars. He knew she was still learning to read, but she would have to have books to practice on. He had discretely slipped them to Varric, letting the dwarf know that they would be of interest to her. He had tried to ignore the look Varric had given him, knew that no one else would know of his interest.

Cullen knew what the agitation beneath his skin was, even though he tried to lie to himself. It was nerves, he said, anger at all the political tasks that were pulling his time away from the important things, like training his soldiers. But he knew the truth. He woke up with it almost every morning, unable to ignore his bodies’ pulsing demands. 

When he wasn’t riddled with nightmares, his dreams were filled with fantasies. They were becoming more detailed, more imaginative. He had one that replaying over and over again, where he sat on the Inquisitor’s sentencing chair, Ari spread on his lap, thighs spread open for him, riding him in the deserted hall, her cries of pleasure ringing up to the vaulted ceiling. Her fascination with the stained glass windows had inspired it; in his mind the sunlight streamed through, coloring her breasts in blue and red patterns as she arched back in abandon, his hands guiding her hips to an ever increasing speed. When she came around him, she would be painted in color, her cries just as brilliant as she was while in ecstasy.

Cullen groaned, dropping his head back, gulping air as his body started to heat, just remembering his dreams tensing him up. He was in agony; every morning just somehow resisting the urge to take his cock and hand and replay visions of her as his jerked off. He spent longer and longer amounts of time in the freezing wind of the hidden balcony, waiting for his blood to chill. Maybe if he froze himself solid, the desire he felt would stop. It was almost impossible to resist, the want; he remembered vividly how intense his release had been, how pleasurable. 

He blinked open his eyes, focusing on the stars. It was easier to think of the constellations he was relearning than that of the torment his mind was providing. Eluvia, Judex, Servani. A streak blazed through the sky, rapidly followed by another. Cullen’s heart jumped. A meteor shower. Ari’elle would love to see such a rare event.

Cullen looked quickly to her tower. Still no light. Should he wake her? Did he dare? 

In the faint light cast by the torches on the wall, Cullen caught a movement on the roof of her tower, a shifting of the shadows. His heart speeding up, he leaned forward, eyes straining in the dark. Was someone on her roof? Had someone infiltrated Skyhold? The roof hadn’t been fixed in his old bedroom; whoever it was could drop right in on Ari as she slept, completely unaware to the danger.

Cullen spun quickly, racing down the steps, the empty hall, out through the solar and across the bridge. He slowed when he reached the closed door leading to the office, carefully easing open the door. He scanned the room, noticing nothing out of place. Making sure his sword was free from entanglements; he quietly eased up the ladder, wincing at his slowness and each noise the wooden rungs made with his weight. 

His head breached the loft, and he took quick stock. Faint light came through the room, enough so that he could see no one there. Ari wasn’t in his old bed either. Worry knotted his gut, and he carefully whispered “Ari’elle?” 

A creaking of the roof made a noise as whoever was on the wood above moved towards the hole in the ceiling. Cullen hauled himself up the last little bit, hand on the pommel of his sword, at the ready for any danger.

Instead, a curtain of dark curls dropped into the room, flowers woven through, Ari’elle’s pale face looking down in confusion, her body flattened against the wood. “Cullen? What are you doing here?” 

Cullen sighed in relief, tension draining away in a rush as he saw her safe and unharmed, just confused at his sudden presence. Heat filled his cheeks, and he self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck, stumbling over his words. “I, uh, I saw movement on the roof, and I thought maybe… maybe someone had snuck past the guards, had gotten up there.” He didn’t mention his irrational worry for her; he felt awkward enough as it was.

“Oh,” she tilted her head to the side, moonlight lighting up one half of her face, catching at her smile. “Thank you for the concern. It is only me though.” She bit at her lip, and asked in a worried tone, “Should I have told someone that I spend time up here? I didn’t even think that it might be a safety concern.”

“Ah, no.” Cullen forced his hand down from his neck. “It should be no problem.” He frowned up at her, now that his worry was gone, a question took precedence. “How did you get up there?” 

“I climbed.” She gestured with her head towards the open window. “There are footholds around the window.” She hesitated for a moment. “Do you want to come up? There are amazing lights happening in the sky right now; I have never seen them before! Do you know what they are?”

Cullen shifted his weight back and forth, trying to convince himself to decline her innocent offer. “Shooting stars,” he said distractedly, his body betraying him as his feet crossed to the opening. “They are shooting stars.”

“They are stars?” She said in amazed wonder, and her head disappeared from the opening. Cullen took a fortifying breath, and looked at the wall. It had never occurred to him to climb to the broken roof while he had slept in this bed. He shot a glance to the soft feather mattress, noticing the rumbled sheets and pillows. She had been sleeping here, in the bed he had slept in just a few months ago. Cullen felt that primitive tug in his belly, and he turned away, concentrating on climbing to the roof.

With a little effort he scrambled up, going slowly to make sure he didn’t break more boards. Ari’elle sat in the middle, looking delectable in a long sleeve loose shirt and baggy trousers. He looked at the available space in slight panic, noticing just how small it really was up here between the rotted boards and the stone crenellations. He settled himself down at her side carefully, leaning his weight back on his hands as he forced his eyes up to the sky.

It was both comfortable and arousing being this close to her, Cullen noticed quickly. He could feel his own tension in his gut, but the familiar presence of Ari at his side under the stars also eased him. A faint floral scent was brushed over him by the night breeze, and he had a flash of memory, the remembered scent left in his mantle from the woman who had saved him. Cullen shook his head, dismissing it. It was not the right smell; the one he remembered from that night was sweeter, more perfect. 

“Look!” Ari’elle bounced in hushed excitement as a large shooting star flashed across the sky, pointing so he didn’t miss it. Cullen smiled at her enthusiasm, at how happy she sounded. Despite everything, he was glad that he was here; unaccountably pleased to be with her while she experienced her first star shower.

“Make a wish,” he said off-hand, remembered conversations with his sisters and brother from his childhood, from the nights they would watch the stars themselves. 

“Make a wish?” Out of the corner of his eye, Cullen saw Ari’elle turn to him, intrigued by the concept.

“Yes, a wish on a shooting star is sure to come true.” Cullen repressed the wish that sprung to mind; Ari’s closeness was proving to be a great temptation. He could hear her every brush of clothing as she gestured at each falling star, her breathy gasps of wonder, see her movements from his peripheral vision. He shifted his legs and hips slightly, that agitation rising in him again, making him want to move.

A long moment passed as Ari’elle seemed to hold her breath, frozen in place. “Cullen,” she breathed out, shifting her body around to face him fully, knees down, the wind rifling through her curls, blowing them forward over her shoulder and against her soft cheek. 

Cullen tensed, locking down on his muscles. The air between them thickened, crackling with a very real attraction. He felt her eyes on his face, and he slowly turned to look at her, unable to resist her pull. 

She licked along her bottom lip, his eyes following the silken drag as she took a deep breath. Something was changing between them again, he realized vaguely, too focused on her to care about the consequences. 

“May I…” as she hesitated, Cullen went ridged, breath punching from him; heat pouring through his veins, cock hardening so quickly he grew dizzy. _“May I feel?”_ Instant memories of that night and the morning after, fantasies that had developed since then poured into the silence, his eyes shooting up to hers. He saw the nervousness on her face, her determination, and a burning heat that amazing matched his own. 

Ari seemed to grow bolder with his absorption, his utter focus on her, how he did not breath, could not speak. She leaned closer to him, her voice dropping low, velvety low, seductively low. 

“May I kiss you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like torturing you all ;D


	21. Chapter 21

Cullen had no breath in his body already, but he completely forgot how to breath at her question. She wanted to kiss him. His eyes dropped down to her plush, parted lips, to the delicate lines tattooed into them. He could finally taste those lips like he had dreamed about, and she wanted him to. The buzzing in his head, his tenuous control over his body told him that it would be a very bad idea.

Ari leaned even closer, barely a hands breadth between them. “Cullen?” She blinked slowly, somehow her eyes reflecting every star in the sky, shimmering and luminous in the darkness. 

Could he stop at just a kiss? He didn’t think so. And she was so unaware of what could happen. His eyes jumped over her face, watching her features closely. There were hints of desire, hints that he wanted to coax out, make burn into need. “Ari,” he breathed, but no words followed. The denial stuck in his chest, not even making it up to his lips.

Her smile blossomed at her name, taking it as acceptance. And it had been, he realized belatedly. There had been no denial; only his own desperate want to say yes.

Ari shifted closer to him, sitting up on her heels, placing their faces at the same level while Cullen attempted to stay motionless. Her expressive eyes dropped down to his lips, and the smile slipped away, replaced with curiosity and a hunger he recognized from his own. Slowly, ever so slowly, she leaned into him. Cullen closed his eyes, sucked in a steadying breath, and prayed to the Maker that he could hold himself.

Soft lips tentatively pressed against his own, sweetly lingering for a heartbeat that lasted forever. Cullen felt her hesitation, her wonder. It was a benediction and a prayer, learning something new and testing an age old beat. It was chaste, simple, yet rocked him to the core. 

For too long and too short in equal strides, Ari kept her lips against his, unmoving. She pulled back, a soft sigh sifting over his heated cheeks. Cullen drew in a fortifying breath through his nose, smelling the hints of the flowers in her hair, her unique earthen scent, the crisp alpine air. _Thank the Maker,_ he thought, somewhat untruthfully. If that was all Ari wanted he could keep his control.

Cullen almost jumped when he felt her again. This time, though, her lips were light on his, brushing back and forth. The friction burned down his spine, feathers of heat tickling along nerve endings and along his blood. He reacted viscerally to the kiss, cock throbbing with each teasing brush of her lips. Cullen clenched his hands into the wood, feeling his shoulders tense even further and his gut knot. Ari kept her exploration light, brushing against the fullness of his bottom lip, one corner and the other, then moved to his scar and traced her silken lips up the small ridge. 

She moved away, and let out a tiny little laugh. “You almost look like you are in pain,” she whispered, the moment too reverent for anything else but quiet words. Cullen’s eyes snapped open, focusing on her. She had a crooked smile over her expression, trying to hide her worry. “Did I… did I do it wrong? Was it bad?” Her brows lowered, and she chewed on her lip, looking vulnerable and innocent and delectable.

Cullen’s hands shot up off the wooden slates and buried themselves into her hair. Her curls twisted and tangled with his fingers, pulling him closer and not letting him go. “No,” he found himself growling out, rough and strange as the heat rolled through his blood. “Just… more, Ari. Let me have more.” He angled himself, finally moving into her as he pulled her face closer. He saw her brighten, that smile she seemed to reserve just for him, and she glowed brilliantly in the moonlight. His eyes focused on the lines of her lip, and he finally let himself have a taste.

He settled his lips just over the tattoo, brushing firmly back and forth, harder than her teasing kisses. Ari gasped lightly, lips parting slightly, and Cullen swiped his tongue out, dragging it along the fullness, finally tasting her. “Sweet,” he groaned, “You are so sweet.” 

Giving her no chance to reply, he set back in. He moved his lips on hers in coaxing gestures, firm pressure that she followed, slowly at first, but with each pass she met him kiss for kiss, growing bolder. She followed his lead, pressing up into him and responding with all the fervor he could have hoped for. Cullen felt himself burning, passion driving away all thought as he gave himself over to the sensations. He dipped inside, slowly deepening the kiss, tasting her more firmly. Ari gasped, the intrusion a surprise, but she quickly responded in kind. 

Cullen moaned in approval, the touch of her tongue driving him to new heights. His hands tightened in her hair, and he cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer. Ari scrambled into him, her hands clasping his shoulders as he guided her over his lap, her legs splitting to settle on either side of his hips, her breasts pressing into his chest. He groaned at the softness, visions of her half exposed in his tent, pearled nipples pressed against almost-sheer linen driving him to distraction. 

With renewed fervor, Cullen set into her, drugging, open mouth kisses leaving them both gasping, clinging to each other. Cullen wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer while angling her head back further so he could sink his tongue in deeper. Ari mewled, her hips shifting restlessly as she settled over the hardness of his cock. “Cullen!” she gasped against his mouth, her hands sinking into his curls and tightening.

Cullen broke away for a moment, gulping in air, taking in the sight of her. Her head was thrown back, eyes open, unfocused, heated and beseeching. A bolt of lust ripped through him. Of course she would kiss with her eyes open; Ari wouldn’t be able to stand not experiencing every aspect of lovemaking. Her lips were swollen and glistening in the moonlight, bruised from their kisses. Her shirt was askew, hinting at the fullness of her breasts, and he could feel how tight her nipples were as they pressed into his chest.

Clamping his teeth together, he slowly moved his hands around, dragging the hem of her shirt up past the waist of her breeches. He locked his gaze with hers, watching the play of hunger, wary excitement, and anticipation shift over her features. He exposed her silken skin and settled his both hands at her sides, slowly moving them up her ribs, revealing her to the moonlight. It was torturous, hearing their breaths panting in the air between them as he slowly moved her shirt up, tilting her back, knowing that her breasts were exposed. But he kept his eyes on her, praying to the Maker he wouldn’t see her become scared or frightened. Now that this was actually happening, he didn’t want to stop.

He pulled the shirt up, Ari’elle lifting her arms so that it could be yanked free. Her wild curls tumbled down around her bare shoulders, falling over her breasts and shoulders. With slow and steady movements, Cullen brushed the strands back, before finally dropping his gaze. Her breasts were as he imagined, small but lush and pert and looked like they would fit in his palms perfectly. They moved rapidly with her uncontrolled breaths, the nipples tightened and pouting, begging for his kisses. Cullen groaned slightly, wanting his tongue on them, wanting them in his hands and against his chest, wanting to watch them as she bounced on his cock. She was beautiful in the moonlight, skin glowing luminously, just as he imagined them glowing in the colored light of the stained glass while taking her on his chair.

Her breasts stilled, and Cullen shot his gaze up to Ari. She had held her breath, gulped at his attention, then licked along her lip. Cullen felt a smirk pull at his scar, and he angled her back, settling her more firmly into his lap. He checked the groan that raised at the pressure her position put on his cock, willing himself to have more control. _Easy,_ he told himself. _This is for her._

Cullen lowered his head, still watching her intently as her eyes widened, fixed on what he was doing. He scrubbed his cheek along the sensitive underside of one breast, the scruff of his stubble making her shiver. Her lips parted in surprise, panting again. Slowly he extended his tongue, stretching the anticipation between them. When it looked like she might snap, he finally dragged the flat of his tongue from the bottom of the fullness of her breast and up across the tightened peak.

Ari’s head dropped back for a moment, her eyes fluttering closed as she gasped in delight. Cullen felt a wicked chuckle rise in his chest, and he set in, determined to drive her as crazy as she drove him. He pulled her nipple into his mouth, suckling, toying with it, dragging his teeth across it gently. Ari moaned, her head coming back up, watching through half-lidded eyes as he moved back and forth between the pretty offerings. He scattered little kisses across her skin, little nips of teeth soothed with sweeps of tongue before sucking her nipples into his mouth and laving it with attention.

Soon she was panting helplessly, shifting her hips as she chased that which she didn’t know. Cullen groaned as he felt her heat through both their trousers, imagining her wet and bare. He thrust his cock up into her, helpless to ignore the sharp lance of pleasure that raced through him. He yanked his upper body back, sucking in breaths. The barrier that he had placed between himself and his own needs was crumbling swiftly at her movements, cock throbbing for attention. 

Cullen opened his eyes and saw Ari watching him, her lips twisted into her own sensual smirk. With deliberate motions, she repeated the roll of her hips against his cock, watching him carefully. Cullen felt another blast of heat, her actions and the passionate way she was watching him compounding, making him groan in defeat. She chuckled wickedly, setting into the motion, but suddenly gasped herself. He dropped his head to her tempting mouth, knowing what had just set her off. She must have ground her clit, that pleasure unknown to her before.

A frenzy settled over them then, and Cullen worked to ramp it even more. Ari rode him; his groans guiding her to move in ways that made his brain fuzz, cock harden even more with each roll of her hips, press of her heat. Ari’s hands flitted from his shoulders, up to his hair, down along his cheeks as she pulled him to her lips for kiss after kiss. Cullen’s hands cupped her breasts, pinched and rolled her nipples, fisted in her hair. Little sounds rose from the back of her throat, driving him insane with want. 

“Ari,” he groaned out, sweeping his tongue into her mouth for another deep kiss.

Her hands slipped around his waist, settling herself more firmly onto his cock, and she sank down, rocking back and forth with constant friction. Cullen felt his seed rise, unbearable pressure and pleasure almost overcoming him. 

He grabbed her hips, hissing in a breath through his teeth, stilling her from adding more movement to his already over stimulated cock. “Cullen,” she moaned, fighting him, trying to work herself against him, “Don’t stop!”

He shook his head, try to gain some semblance of control. Instead her hands delved to his waist, sinking below his shirt and her little fingernails sinking into his bare skin. Cullen’s cock jerked at the feel of her soft hands and calloused fingers, almost coming, and he quickly changed his grip, grabbing her wrists. 

“Cullen,” Ari whined raggedly. “let me move. Let me _feel_!”

The words shot through him just as she started to move her hips again, fantasy brought to life, and the white hot pleasure that had been building burst. He let go of her wrists, sank his hands into her delectable curls and claimed her lips. She moaned at his aggressiveness, her hands roaming over his skin, up across his back, sinking into his shoulders as she moved steadily, riding him to his orgasm. “Ari, you are making me… making me come!” he groaned roughly, letting go the last of his control.

Cullen thrust up into her, his hips moving erratically as his cock pumped as he came, heat and pleasure shuddering through him as she worked him, the friction just amping each cresting wave up to dizzying heights. He moaned into her mouth helplessly, uncaring that he was outside, that they could be heard or seen. He just jerked up into the heat of her, imaging he was sinking into her with each thrust, spilling into her wetness.

Cullen’s movements slowed as he finished, Ari’s continued rolling along his sensitive cock making him pull her back slightly. With a deep groan he dropped his head into her shoulder, resting his damp forehead against her warm, silken skin, gulping in breaths. After panting for several long moments, he pressed an open mouth kiss to her neck, lingering in wonder and amazement. His orgasm had been greater than any before, better than when he had taken himself in hand over a week ago. The wet heat in his smalls probably would have embarrassed him normally, but he felt too blissed out to care that she had ridden him to come without even a hand to help. 

Ari shifted restlessly, her breaths still moving her chest in sharp movements. A smile curved his lips as he pulled back, gently cupping her cheek and looking down at her. She was still lost in passion, her eyes dark and hazy, lips parted. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She asked worriedly.

Cullen chuckled and shook his head. “Absolutely not. I felt only pleasure, I assure you.” He dropped a linger kiss on the sharp tip of the arrow inked on her forehead. 

“Oh,” Ari paused and licked her lips. “I thought I might have hurt you.”

“You can give me that type of pain any day.” Cullen smiled against her skin, wrapping his arms around her torso, pressing her close into his racing heart. With determination he pushed away the deeper truth to the words, deciding he would think about it later. Right now, he was focusing only on Ari and tonight.

Ari spoke against his neck, her tongue flicking out to taste the salt on his throat. “I heard you make those noises. Over a week ago, when we were camping. Is that what you were doing? Coming?” 

Cullen’s cock pulsed, his breath once again punching from him. She had heard him as he had masturbated, as he had moaned her name through his ejaculation. Cullen dropped down to her lips again, kissing her in a defeated desperation. His reaction to her words told him he was far from over this, far from done.

“Yes, Ari. You have been driving me crazy.” He sipped from her lips, brought his hands around to breasts and rolled her nipples. She made another of those noises in the back of her throat, her hips jerking in reaction. “And now,” he smirked as he whispered against her lips and stared into her eyes as one hand slowly moved down her sternum, dipping into her belly button and across her soft stomach. “It’s time to make you come. Time to drive you crazy.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I am so, so sorry for the delay :( I was called into Jury Duty and then placed on a case for all of last week. So all the things I needed to get done last week did not happen. (Then I was hit with a case of writers block, lovely) So this new chapter is late! I probably will still only update about once a week for the month of August, but I super hope there won't be such a big gap like this last one!

Cullen’s fingers burned as they slowly dragged down the skin of her belly, his eyes still glowed just as darkly as they had earlier. Could a person’s eyes glow while mostly pupil? Hazily, she realized she had seen him look at her with this expression before. A few times over the last week and a half. Had this type of thing been on his mind even then? Her heart beat heavily, the pain of wanting it to be true racing through her. Oh, how she wanted that. 

Ari’elle blinked heavily, a small gasp escaping her lips as one of his rough fingers dipped into her belly button, her sex clenching emptily. Drive her crazy? She already was there.

Everything had been a revelation so far, fascinating and addicting. No wonder couples disappeared for privacy after kissing back in her clan. If any of them were half as skilled as Cullen was, kisses became much more very quickly. His expressions alone could drive her crazy. His lips were parted, eyes intensely focused on her; her mouth, her eyes, her breasts. And when things had gotten out of control, and that rigid length in his trousers had started to kick and his thrusts had gotten more chaotic, she had felt herself grow even wetter at the look on his face. It had been a combination of pain and bliss, of fighting himself and utter release. Erotic and tempting and she wanted to see him look like that again.

Ari’elle licked along her bottom lip, feeling a heady thrill of power as Cullen’s dark gaze followed the swipe of her tongue, and his lips came down on hers, following the path. She groaned into his mouth, arched up into his body as he kept her leaning back. The fabric of his shirt scrapped along her nipples, little lances of pleasure shooting down to her core, the teasing doing little to help in any way. The heady taste of Cullen, the friction and heat of his tongue tangling with hers slowly built her up again. 

Between their bodies, she felt the ties of her trousers tug, and then the waist slackened. Cullen tore away from her greedy kiss, chuckling darkly as her nails dug into the shifting muscles of his back, a protest as she tried to drag him back to her lips. “Easy Ari.” His deep voice feathered over her. A dark and wicked smirk pulled at his scar, his kiss-swollen lips. “I’ll make it better.”

His hands went to her hips, and he lifted her, his strength evident as big hands moved her from over his lap, having her kneel at his side. Ari’elle shivered, finding that power arousing, wishing she could see his strength as he moved. Cullen’s eyes dipped down to her breasts, and he cupped them and let them drop, heat in his eyes as he watched them bob and move. He tweaked one nipple, her breath hitching in reaction. He dipped his head down and smoothed a kiss along the tightened peak. 

Ari’elle felt the silken feathers of his hair tickle her skin, and she sank her hands into the tousled curls, scrapped her nails along his scalp. Cullen hummed a little pleasured sound, different than when he had been in the midst of coming. No, this one sounded happy, as if it were relaxing to him. She filed it away, hoping that she would be able to do it again sometime, hoping that they would be allowed to do this again. 

Cullen slowly started to pull down her loosened trousers, pulling back to watch what he was doing. She swallowed heavily, chewing on her lip. Almost unconsciously she shifted her weight on her knees, feeling a little nervous. What if he didn’t like what he exposed? What if she was different from humans in this aspect? Would he be repulsed? 

In the moonlight, she could see him almost as well as she could in the sunlight, but she knew humans were different. Could she hide herself? Cullen’s eyes shot up to her, and he focused on her lip. With a gentle touch, he brushed the pad of his thumb along her _vallaslin,_ soothing away her nibbling, following the lines down to her chin. “You are so beautiful Ari.” Warmth of a different sort filled her chest, eased her nervousness, a tumultuous smile breaking over her lips. He was so…

With deliberate movements, Cullen pulled her trousers and smalls off her hips, lifted her, and whisked them off her body entirely. She gasped in the cold air, as he shifted her, moved her around so that she was once again straddling his thighs, but this time she was facing away from him. The thick band of his arm wrapped around her waist, hand covering the ribs of her side, bringing her flush against his chest. 

The night air teased along her sex, making her shift and shiver as the cold accentuated just how wet she was. Pressed as she was against Cullen’s body, she felt his groan rumble in his chest, the vibrations somehow working their way through her, making her breath hitch. 

“Just look at you,” His voice growled, husky and rough. His free hand worked its way into her hair, fisting the tangled mass, pulling her head to the side. Cullen’s tempting mouth dropped down to her ear, his lips brushing hotly along the point. Ari’elle shivered almost violently, tendrils of heat curling in her belly and a moan broke through her lips. He chuckled darkly as he held her captive against him, watching as she moved deliriously. Apparently her ears were sensitive; she had never known.

“You are bare. Achingly bare.” His hand at her ribs moved around slowly, fingers splayed over her stomach. The heat of him singed her, made her boil, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t in the right spot. She could feel his eyes on her, feel as he looked at her nakedness. “That night, when you told me elves had no hair on their body, I pictured this. Pictured you. Exposed and wet and completely bare.” Little sounds were escaping her, but she didn’t even notice, too caught up in his words. Her hands fluttered around, settling on his forearm, his bicep.

“The vision of you half dressed in my shirt gave me dreams, made me wake up hard.” His lips moved along her ear, hot words spoken against her skin, soft lips just building everything. “Your little hand on my cheek made me imagine it around my cock.” Ari’elle shifted more, feeling herself grow hotter, her skin prickle as a light breeze added to the sensations riddling her body.

“What you heard that morning, me moaning, was me imagining you coming into my tent, wrapping your hand around me and working me through my orgasm. Making me come.” Slowly, his hand started to lower, fingers drop closer and closer to her wetness. 

“Cullen!” Ari’elle whined, fighting his limiting grasp, to reach her lips up to him, to kiss his throat, his jaw, his mouth, any part of him she could. He tightened his hand in her hair though, holding her in place, helpless but to stay as he positioned her. His legs trapped her kneeling with her knees apart, and she felt her leg tremble both in anticipated pleasure and from staying up when all she wanted to do was sink onto his thighs. 

“You heard me, heard me moan your name? Did it make you ache? Make you wet?” Finally, _finally,_ his slow fingers dipped down over her, feeling her, brushing against the parted lips of her core. Cullen groaned out, his teeth bared and nipping the point of her ear. “Maker’s breath, wet like you are now?”

“Yes,” Ari’elle ground out, practically sobbing as the tension built and built. She arched her back, trying to press herself against his hand more fully, but he moved with her, kept his touch light and teasing. 

He petted along her, little touches aimed to torment, drive her crazy like he wanted, and she fell into the sensations. He moved along her slit, spreading the wetness he found. His fingers were big along her, the callouses from his sword work causing delicious ripples of friction to coil in her, and she chased the feeling as best she could. “Cullen, more!” She panted out.

His breathing was hot against her skin, and he started to drop kisses along her ear, down her exposed neck. He gave her a nip of her skin at the same time his fingers brushed upward, caressing the bundle of nerves. The combined sensations caused her to groan loudly, a rush of wetness leaking from her. Her back arched, body rolling, and behind her Cullen tensed even more. 

“I have been plagued with dreams of you like this; open and begging me for more.” His fingers repeated the brush over her pearl, a little harder this time, and she was helpless but to follow his lead. He started faster, his fingers moving all over now, dipping into her just slightly. Ari’elle’s brain fuzzed out, somehow unaware of anything but completely focused on Cullen and what he was doing to her body. Was that even possible? Creators, it must be, but she couldn’t think how.

Cullen worked her faster, her hips moving restlessly as something built in her. It was like when she had been grinding on Cullen earlier, moving on the hard length of him. This time though, it was faster, more potent. He somehow knew what she needed better than she did, soothing and teasing and building pressure. He continued to drop kisses on her neck, little bites with his teeth that coiled that ache inside her faster. The juxtaposition of her being naked, completely exposed to his gaze, while he was fully clothed made her hotter. The heat of his skin through the rough rasp of his shirt against her back and buttocks as she moved was offset by the cool silk of the night air playing along her front and nipples compounded with everything.

Soon words were falling from her lips, a jumbled mix of elvhan and common, of commands and begs. Her sex clenched, throbbing, knowing that what was inside his pants would help her, a release of the pressure. She knew to truly have sex he would feed himself inside where he was teasing, and she wanted it. Wanted his hardness, the length, the power of his thrusts. 

“Maker’s breath, Ari. I want to. _Fuck,_ I want to be in you.” His thumb settled over her bundle before one of his fingers dipped inside her, pushing slowly in. “I’m hard again,” he groaned against her, “Just from seeing you like this, knowing that I am actually touching you, from imagining my cock moving inside you. Andraste, _moving_.”

The words penetrated her haze, and Ari’elle knew what he meant. Determined, she split her legs apart as best she could, working herself downward, seeking. Cullen seemed to know what she hunted, and with a curse, he finally let her sink back against him. She dropped onto his lap, and she felt his words, felt that hard rod straining against his trousers, wanting what she wanted. 

Cullen’s hips thrust forward at the same time his finger thrust into her. She cried out in wonder, the mimicry building her higher and higher. With a savage curse, Cullen tugged her head around and back, taking her mouth in a savage kiss, tingles traveling down her and coalescing in her heat. He looked just as hungry and fierce as before, his curls a wild mess, eyes dark and lost. Did she look like that? Lost in the heat of this unbearable passion?

He added another finger inside her as he quickened, his thumb working faster and faster. Ari’elle felt her world narrow even further. Little sparks started to burst, and she saw the stars above her move, blur as every single one of them fell. Instinctively she knew she was about to fall herself, and one hand rose up, curling around Cullen’s neck as the other held onto the muscles of his forearm, feeling them move has his fingers worked her. 

Inside her, he brushed against a particularly sensitive spot, and she felt herself explode. Her eyes dropped closed as she let loose a torrent of noises, all captured by Cullen’s mouth. His fingers were an invading presence that she clenched around, tried to draw deeper, and he still moved, working her through it. Her hips pushed back and up along him, feeling his length move as she throbbed. The stars continued to dance behind her eyes as she felt the pleasure roll and crash through her, Cullen heightening it even further, drawing it out as she screamed. 

Slowly she came down from her high, feeling herself saturated between her legs, the gentle movements as Cullen slowly drew his fingers from her. Her eyes felt heavy as she stared up at him, somehow exhausted and rejuvenated at the same time. He still looked tense and hungry, and Ari’elle felt him still hard against her. But there was a masculine satisfaction curling his lip, pulling at his scar. 

Panting, Ari tenderly brushed her hand along the dashing scar, along his lips. “Cullen,” she breathed. “You drove me crazy.”

He chuckled lowly, kissing her fingertips. “Good. That was the plan.” He slowly eased her hair out of his fist, allowing her to move her head once more. He smoothed his hand over her forehead, tenderly brushing back the tendrils that had fallen over her face. With light brushes he kissed down her vallaslin, forehead to nose.

He was trying to be gentle with her, Ari’elle realized, soothing her after her first orgasm. But his body was still wracked with tension, little shivers rumbling through the clenched muscles. A feminine thrill curled her lip, and she carefully pulled away from him, making sure she didn’t brush his… cock? Had he called it that?

Cullen watched her as she sat down next to him, his eyes still half-lidded and dark. Deliberately she reached for his trousers, for the barely discernable strings. “I believe you mentioned something about imagining about my hand on you?” 

Cullen’s hips thrust, a groan breaking from his chest. “Ari.” He sucked in a breath through his nose, his teeth clenched tight. “You are going to be the death of me.”

Ari’elle just smirked and turned her attention back to her task. She slowly pulled the strands open, exposing buttons. She worked at them, feeling his hardness against her knuckles, giving him teasing little flicks of fingertips. Cullen’s hands fisted at his side as he dropped a knee open, giving her greater access. 

Finally she pressed open his pants, and she could see him, straining against the darkness of his smalls. She nibbled a little, and looked up, unsure what to do. His eyes were locked on her lip again, and Ari’elle felt that smirk breech her lips. Did he have a thing with her _vallaslin_? Now that she thought about it, it did seem like maybe he looked at her bottom lip a bit. She teased her lip with her tongue, testing her theory. Cullen immediately dropped down to her lips, nipping at that spot. Yes, she chuckled in feminine delight. It seemed he did. 

She pulled away from that revelation, and focused on his straining cock. Carefully she lifted and pulled down his smalls, revealing him to the moonlight. Free of constraint it dropped some, moving away from his body. Ari’elle tilted her head to the side, watching as she slowly wrapped her hand around it. 

Cullen groaned, moving his upper body into her, dropping his forehead down on her shoulder. But somehow she knew he was watching her, watching as she hesitantly shifted her fingers around, exploring his cock. It was velvety soft, but undeniably hard. She brushed her fingers down to the base, a little surprised when she felt hairs all around. Humans were not bare like elves were, apparently. The base was slightly broader than what was above, she noticed as she ran her hand back up, until it flared at the top again. With delicate fingers she traced the head, the ridge of it. As she watched, it twitched in her hand, a drop of pearly substance beading up from the slit in it. She brushed her finger along it, spreading the moisture around. 

“Ari,” Cullen groaned into her shoulder, “Don’t tease. I’m too close already.”

“What do I do Cullen? How do I help you?” She whispered as she wrapped her hand back around him again.

Without saying anything, Cullen clasped her wrist, and slowly started moving her hand up and down, while the other went up to his mouth. He spit into his hand, then added the moisture at the base of his cock, her hand working the wetness over him. Ari’elle followed his rhythm, building up speed as he did. He dropped his hand away soon, wrapped it around her body, pulling her further into his side. 

As she increased the speed, so did his groans, the jerks of his cock, the amount of liquid leaking from the tip of him. Ari’elle added her other hand, playing with the seed that rose from him, adding it to the moisture. Cullen’s hips started jerking, pumping up into her hands, adding to the speed and pressure. He grew hotter in her hands, more wild, and Ari’elle wished that they were downstairs on her bed. He would be naked, and the candle light would dance on his skin, adding to the sensualness of this moment. She wanted to see him as she had seen him that first time, bathed in firelight, only completely naked and undone as he was now.

“Ari,” Cullen gritted against her. “You are…” His words devolved into grunts as he smothered his noises in the curve of her neck, holding her tighter. Ari’elle watched fascinated as his cock jerked, and a rope of liquid shot from him. His hips thrust up into her hands, so she kept going, kept her hands at a fast pass as he came. Several times his body jerked, and she could feel the throbbing of his cock, feel the pressure burst from him. 

Eventually, his hips stilled, so she stopped as well, feeling him pant against her, shake his head. “That was… this night has been…” 

Ari’elle nodded, dropping her cheek onto his soft curls. Her heart thumped erratically, elation and fatigue coursing through her in equal parts. There was something more between them now, something greater. She knew exactly what he meant.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry everyone for the forever long delay. But I am done for the season/year, and I will be back to regularly updating! Thank you for all who have stuck with me, and for all the new readers who have found me! You don't know how much I appreciate your words and support.

Ari’elle propped her chin in her hand as her body rocked back and forth to the tuneless humming Sera kept up next to her. The sun beat down on her back, her bare feet exposed to the gentle breeze. Out of the corner of her eye, Ari’elle saw Sera lob another raison off into the air, and they both crowed loudly as her little missile hit; one of the recruits below them startled out of his drills. The green lad flinched in shock, his guard dropping as he whipped his head up to stare at the cloudless sky, confusion patented on his face. Seeing an opening, his partner shoved into the boy’s distractedness, and they both clumsily tumbled to the ground. 

Sera and Ari’elle roared with laughter, the unfettered sounds bouncing from Sera’s little rooftop to the causeway, the stone walls of the courtyard amplifying their mirth. The new recruits all slowly halted their practice, looking around to find the cause of today’s disturbance. 

Ari’elle rolled onto her back, her hair flying in all directions and dripping off the edge of the eves, in no way hiding. Her eyes closed in mirth, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, the laughter naturally slowing… until Sera started up her commentary.

“Raisons!” Her fellow elf sputtered. “He thought it was raining raisons! Cookies from the skies!” The choked words just started their peals of laughter again, and Ari’elle flopped to her side and curled up onto the shingles, unable to catch her breath. Sera continued to pantomime the silly event, and Ari’elle would start right back up again.

“Ari’elle! Sera!” Their names were barked out, disapproval and command dripping from the crisp tones. “A little decorum, if you please!”

Ari’elle sunk her teeth into her lip, trying to subdue the carefree amusement that still rolled through her. She pushed herself up onto her hip, fingers curling over the edge of the roof as she looked down at the blond man standing below them. His hands were planted at his hips, looking noble and disapproving. But Ari’elle could see the twinkle in his amber eyes, the clenching of his jaw as he attempted to quash the mirth she knew he was feeling. Her lips stretched into another grin, but she obediently pushed out, “Yes, Inquisitor.”

“But… flying raisons!” Sera choked out, laughter bubbling up in her throat. Ari’elle darted her glistening brown eyes to her friend, and sent an elbow into her ribs. They snorted back their laughter, both managed to don reasonable impressions of recalcitrant children. “Won’t happen again, your Inquisitorialness.” Sera said in mock seriousness.

Since this was Ari’elle’s and Sera’s third time disrupting practice in the week and a half they had been there, the Commander below them gave them both disbelieving glares before turning his back to the two elves.

They hunched together for a second of shared quiet giggles before Cullen whipped his head around and scowled at them. They straightened instantly, both attempting to look innocent but just managed to look even more young and mischievous than was good for either of their acting skills.

For a moment, eye’s caught together, and even from their distance Ari’elle could feel the heat Cullen let slip in that instant. Her heart thumped in her chest, her lips parted as she gulped in breath. In the clinging moment, she felt the rush of remembered heat roll through her. He turned away, breaking the connection, but she felt it linger all the same.

Ari’elle sat back against the windows, her eyes naturally moving to the broad shoulders of the human standing proudly below her. He wore one of those loose white shirts he favored, body free of encumbrances so he could correct stances, show proper positions, and cause all who were so inclined to dart lingering glances at his physique. She sighed slightly. Since last night, she was gradually becoming more aware of the distinct look in others eyes as desires were suppressed. She shifted, a slight blush rising in her cheeks, and sighed again, this time in outlandish contentment.

Last night had been… beyond anything. Nothing in her life had prepared her for Cullen’s kisses, for the caresses and all that had happened. She knew that they hadn’t done the final deed, but could anyone feel any closer than she had felt to him last night?

They had stayed entwined for a long time, neither making any movement to break apart. His pants against her neck had gradually evened out, the thumping of his heart calming. In the quiet of the night, Ari’elle had matched his breathing, fancied their pulses settling into the same beats. 

A little frown twisted her lips. Only her one stupid shiver had broken the blissful embrace. Cullen had tightened his arms around her, a soft curse dropping from his lips. “You’re cold.” He had stated. “Of course you are. You are… naked” Ari’elle had seen the faint change in color in his cheeks, and found it adorable. That he would feel so shy after all they had just done. With how deliciously in control he had been.

With brisk motions, Cullen had reached out and grabbed her clothing, wordlessly helping her into the oversized items she had donned earlier in the evening. Her eyes had been drooping at that point, and unable to stop the large yawns that were breaking through her guard. Cullen had smiled that small half smile, the one that quirked his scar. She had smiled back at him easily as he carefully dressed her. He had gently told her to lift her arms, then dropped the shirt over her head and gently combed his fingers out and through her tangled curls.

“A bit more than what I can do now,” he had laughed slightly, giving a rueful shake of his head as his fingers just found more knots. Ari’elle had just shrugged happily, letting him fuss over something as mundane as her wayward hair. She was sure it had looked just as it always had, a wild mess, but she had enjoyed the care too much to tell him to not worry about it.

The metallic clank of footsteps on the ramparts broke the silence, and they had both sighed in resignation. It was time. Stooping slightly, Cullen had helped her stand, then moved to the broken section of roof, climbing down inside. Ari’elle had followed after, slightly surprised when his large hands had grasped her hips, plucking her from her descent. He had brought her into his chest, cradling her there as he took the few footsteps to the bed. Turning back the finest blankets that had replaced the old bedding when she had claimed the room, Cullen had slipped her beneath the covers and tucked her in.

He had sat on the bed next to her, the darkness almost complete. Very little moonlight had come through, but Ari’elle could see his handsome, tired face all the same. She hadn’t been able to read the expression he had had, though, watching him as he smoothed his hand across her forehead and carefully spread her curls over the pillow.

Curling around his hip, she had whispered, “You are not going to stay tonight, are you?” Although it was formed as a question, they both knew the answer.

Cullen shook his head as he repeated the soothing motions. “No, I have to go back.” He didn’t look her in the eyes. And Ari’ell had known it was because he had been ashamed, disgusted with himself.

“I know.” She had seen him gulp, the tenseness in his shoulders and expression. “I understand.” She had snaked an arm out from the blanket and grasped his moving hand. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she brought it to her lips and brushed a kiss across his knuckles. “It’s okay Cullen.” 

He had stiffened even more at her words, dropping his eyes down and clenching his jaw. Ari’elle had laughed slightly, and he had finally met her gaze, slightly shocked at her response. “Truly, I understand. You are the Inquisitor; I have seen what that means. To you and your men.” She had reached up and traced the line creasing his forehead with a gentle finger, smoothing away the frown. “Don’t regret this Cullen.” She had yawned hugely, her lashes fluttering closed and snuggled down into the fluffy pillow. “I know I never will.”

She had almost fallen asleep when she had felt his lips press to her forehead. “Goodnight, Ari.” He had whispered against her skin, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You are beyond words.”

“I know.” She had mumbled out, and smiled in response to his deep chuckle. She had fallen asleep before he had fully descended the ladder.

“Ari? Hellooo?” Sera plinked a raison to the side of her head, startling Ari’elle from her thoughts. “Why are you staring at a human like that? Like you’ve seen him all starkers and your personal feeling board?”

Ari’elle felt the rush of blood to her face, the warmth in her chest from remembering last night now burning in embarrassed heat. She had been? Her hands flew up to her cheeks. “No I haven’t!” she blurted out. And it was the truth… she had been the one without any clothes on.

Sera’s mouth dropped open, her shredding of the cookie in her hand forgotten. “Ari! You have!”

“No!” Ari’elle turned to her friend, shaking her head vehemently. “I swear I haven’t!” 

Sera’s eyes narrowed, looking hard at her. Ari’elle squirmed slightly, unable to bear the attention of her usually cavalier friend. “Something’s happened Ari,” Sera finally pushed out. She turned her hard gaze to Cullen, who now worked with a young woman. “Something with the Inquisitor.” 

Sera looked at Ari’elle, her expression grave. “Don’t Ari. Stop it now. That way only lies trouble for the likes of us.”

Ari’elle’s stomach clenched, uncomfortable with the direction their usually easy friendship had turned. “I’m fine, Sera. Nothing is going on,” Ari’elle lied, shifting her gaze.

She could see Sera open her mouth to argue more, but Ari’elle overrode her. “Oh! Look at the time!” She said brightly. “Varric and I have reading lessons now! I will see you later.” Without giving her friend any time to say anything, Ari’elle shimmied to the edge of the roof, grabbed the edge, and then dropped down to the dirt of the courtyard. Without a backwards glance, she ran up the stairs and into the keep, pushing all apprehension out of her mind. 

***

Cullen clenched the missive in his hand, striding from the stables back to his chambers. Iron Bull and his chargers were inbound, due to arrive back at Skyhold tomorrow. His chest grew tight, but he pushed it aside best he could. Which would mean that in just a few days, the qunari would be ready to leave again. Which meant that Ari’elle would be leaving as well.

Trying to appear as unaffected as possible, Cullen marched his way through the practice yard. He made his customary visual sweeps, but he was not processing much of the information. Fade-take it. He had known that she would only have a few days here before she had to leave once more, but since last night… things had changed.

He should have kissed her earlier, he cursed. He had wasted too much time aching for her, mired in his martyrdom. He should have kissed her that night beneath the moon. A faint hint of a smile touched his lips. Which time? He asked himself quizzically, in rare absurdity. The night it had rained, when she had slept in his tent inches from him. The first time he had truly seen her as woman. 

No, he shook his head; that was not the first time. The first time he had seen her as a woman was their first night together in the moonlight. When she had opened his eyes to the world again. When she had shown him that there was more beyond his duties, his memories, his bitterness. That first night when he had followed her in distrust and suspicion and she had shown him how pure and wholesome she was. As she had never stopped showing him.

He should have kissed her that night. He should have kissed her that rainy night in his tent. He should have kissed her as she had cried, curled into his arms, sobbing for the first life she had taken. He should have kissed her when she had so innocently asked him _“May I feel?”_. Instead he was going to be left with whatever they could sneak into the next few days. And his memories.

Heat rolled through him once more, threatening his composure. Andraste forgive him, but he was going to follow Ari’s words and not regret any second of last night. He couldn’t imagine a more intense, desirable evening. The only thing that would have made it any better would have been if he could have stayed with her and repeated the experience throughout the night. And in the morning. And maybe over the afternoon after that. 

Shaking his head once again, Cullen strode up the steps to the Main Hall. Duties first, he told himself the hundredth time today, telling himself not to indulge in fantasies. Nothing could happen if he lost himself in illusions and became too busy to pursue real life.

Cullen marched through the doors, Varric’s voice the first he heard in the polite chatter of people usually in the cavernous space. “Sometimes two words put together mean something else entirely.”

Cullen smiled slightly as he broke through the antechamber and into the Main Hall. Ari and Varric were stationed before Varric’s fire, the two working on Ari’s reading skills. She could be found here most afternoons, laboring through books or over sheaves of paper. She looked cozy, curled into the chair, the fire picking up those enigmatic highlights in her curls, her face a study of concentration. He forced himself to look away after a glance, his feet to continue.

“So what does blowjob mean then?” 

Cullen’s feet stopped working, his heart jumping as he stumbled a few steps, flailing as he tried to right himself. Whirling as fast as he could, Cullen practically dashed to where Varric laughed and Ari’elle blinked up at him in surprise.

“Why don’t you ask Curly to tell you, Red.” A smirking drawl was shot up to the speechless man, “I’m sure he would be happy to help you discover all the words possible meanings.”

An incredible image shot into Cullen’s brain. Ari at his feet, doing exactly as he described, relishing learning what a blowjob meant. Pink tongue tracing, cheeks hollowed, head moving. He couldn’t stop the reaction this time, heat shooting into his face, down his spine and knotting his gut.

“Cullen? Can you tell me what a blowjob is?” Ari asked so sweetly, so innocently, he couldn’t dislodge the internal play. Of her asking him that exact question while kneeling with her hands on his belt. Of her setting diligently in on learning. Inside his trousers his cock stiffened, awaiting that pleasure as eagerly as anything. As if she hadn’t made him come twice just hours before. 

“Varric,” he strangled out. “What is she reading?” Cullen pulled his eyes from Ari, from the way her eyes had drawn in confusion. For his sanity he couldn’t look at her right now.

“Oh just one of my books.” The author leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk creasing his bruiser’s face. “I thought she would find it interesting and enlightening.” Varric saw far too much. 

Cullen shifted, clenching his jaw to prevent himself from snapping at his friend. Or, even worse, shuddering out an agonized breath. Thank the Maker he had replaced his cloak; the concealing protection was sorely needed.

Cullen’s eyes were pulled helplessly to Ari, the drums of desire too much to be denied. Inside her dark iris’s he saw her dawning realization, her wicked curiosity making her sit forward, studying him closely. He spun on his heel and departed for his chambers as quickly as possible. 

Maker’s breath. He needed to finish his tasks as quickly as possible now. He needed free time tonight.


	24. Chapter 24

It was disgusting. Cullen pulled a face, feeling the tension running up his neck, straining his eyes. He blinked them closed, let them stay shut for a moment. Josephine and Leliana’s solution to the Inquisition’s problems. The papers wrinkled as his fist reflexively tightened. With a grunt, Cullen released the dossier’s, let them fall and sprawl across his desk.

He stared down at the perfect portrait looking up at him. Elegant, polite. Flawless and impersonal. A cool smile touching cool features. Josephine had made notes of all the political affiliations; Leliana had made note of the material ones. Orderly and detailed, probably having taken months to compile. And he couldn’t run from them anymore. 

Marriage applications. To women whose families and connections could bring power and much needed legitimacy to the Inquisition. 

A bitter smile painted Cullen’s lips, turning his scar whiter. The tactician in him recognized the validity of the plan; the man in him hated it. The core of him, where he was a simple farmer’s son who watched fireflies and stars and dreamed, rebelled against the idea. And now that his physical passions had once again arisen, the thought of marrying some distant and proper lady could not sound more unappealing.

A loud rumble of laughter drifted up through the open balcony door, distracting him. Gratefully, Cullen stood from his desk, smoothing his hands down his cloak. The tavern was certainly loud tonight. The loudest it had been since…

A knock on the door interrupted his thought, pulling his head around. “Enter,” he called, and waited for whoever it was. 

A messenger trotted to the top of the stairs, then stopped and saluted smartly. “Inquisitor.” She dropped her arm, clasping it behind her back. “The Iron Bull and the Chargers have returned just now.”

Cullen frowned and nodded. “Thank you, scout. Dismissed.” She saluted once more, then exited.

The Chargers had returned already? It explained the noise from the tavern; they would be especially rowdy after their return. This he knew from previous experience. And their mission must have gone well, if the raucous laughter was any indication. But they were early, by a day. Bull was usually more accurate with such timings. 

Heat slithered down his spine. It could be his excuse to be out. The tavern was right next to the stairs leading to the ramparts. It was a bit of a circuitous way back to the Main Hall, but no one would think too much of it if he took the route through his old office. He and Ari’elle had a discussion they needed to finish.

Cullen strode briskly towards the door, but slowed as he put distance between himself and his desk. With a heavy sigh, he turned and looked at the papers, the mess over the wood surface. He reached a hand up and scrubbed the back of his neck. Duty first. 

Wearily he closed the open balcony doors, cutting off the celebration happening below, and returned to the worn leather seat, sinking into the chair and slowly gathered the papers up. He didn’t want to make this decision; perhaps he would never have to. However, he owed it to the Inquisition to do what was best for his people. For the people of Thedas. If he had to marry some blasted noblewoman to do it, he would.

For the next hour and a half, Cullen carefully read through each candidate, taking stock of the benefits each one had, potential draw back, ramifications to the marriage each one would have. He took notes, decided definitively against three of them, and made sure to leave questions for Josephine and Leliana. Questions about their temperament and personality. If he had to marry, at the very least he wanted to know if he could stand to be in the same room as the woman. It wouldn’t hurt anything if she happened to be a decent person, surely.

Fifteen minutes to midnight, he finally finished. Standing and stretching, Cullen shook his head ruefully. This was him hurrying to finish all his tasks today? Busy dawn till dusk with paperwork and meetings. A sudden vision hit him; a repeat of today, writing and listening to the drone of politics, over and over again for the rest of his life. Playing nice with diplomats, pasting smiles on his face. The only reprieve he received were the short few hours he could oversee training of new recruits. 

Horror bristled his skin, raising the hair on his arm. Shuddering, Cullen quickly exited his room. Day in, day out. The same routine. His sojourn to the Rift in the forest hadn’t been an easy one, filled with worry they would never be able to close it and frustrated anger over the loss of life it had caused. But a small part of him had thrilled in being there. In physically being able to fight something, of being out of Skyhold and away from the political parts of being Inquisitor. Now though… he wasn’t sure when his duties would allow for him to leave again.

The door to the tavern was wide open, and as Cullen stepped inside, the noise rose even more. New recruits mingled with veterans, drink and laughter breaking down awkward barriers. Cullen swept his eyes over the crowd, noticing card and dice games, flirting and assignations being planned. He suppressed the smile the wanted to spread over his face. Once he made his hellos to Bull, he could go find Ari’elle for an assignation he planned himself. 

He easily spotted the qunari; The Iron Bull stood a good head and shoulders taller than everyone around him. He was in the middle of the room, chatting with some of the new recruits. They were all looking up at him as if there were no one more fascinating. And, as Cullen started across the floor, for many of these country lads and lasses, it was true that there was no one more exotic or interesting.

One of the women hanging on Bull’s every word caught a glimpse of him, and snapped to attention. “Inquisitor!” She saluted, stopping whatever story Bull was telling.

Cullen smiled and nodded, still feeling a little surprised every time young men and woman showed him such respect. 

“Boss!” Bull boomed, clapping one of his ham sized fists on Cullen’s back. Cullen turned to him, glad that he had kept his armor on. That greeting could have given him a nice bruise. 

“Bull!” Cullen held out his hand for his friend. “It is good to see you. I must admit, I am surprised you outpaced your message by a whole day.” The young recruits edged away, giving the two of them a little space to talk. Cullen could feel all the eyes on him still, but it was something he was becoming used to now.

Bull crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, we came across a lonely Fereldan mead merchant. We… persuaded him to make a new market up here in Skyhold. We have had a lack of that brew here. Fortunately for us, the merchant was in possession of a large and sturdy cart.” Bull leaned closer slightly, dropping his voice. “He was hurriedly on his way to Duke Gaspard’s estate. We deemed it better he not make that appointment.”

“Gaspard, huh?” Cullen murmured. Now what would an Orlesian noble’s interest in a Fereldan mead merchant be? The Orlesian’s had no taste for mead; they saw it as far beneath their refined palates. However, a smuggler of information or goods from Ferelden, Cullen could see great interest in that. “Well done Bull.”

Bull shrugged his massive grey shoulders. “Just luck, I am sure, Boss.” Cullen doubted that; Bull was far more perceptive than people gave him credit for. 

Cullen made a mental note to have Leliana talk with the merchant. If she hadn’t already. Maybe he should get Josephine to send notice to King Alistair. Perhaps he was marginally aware of the merchant’s dealings, or a link to a bigger ring…

“Cullen!” His shouted name drew him from his musings, and Cullen blinked. That had sounded like Ari’elle. 

Turning around, he saw the elf he had not expected to find in here. She was waving to him enthusiastically with one hand, her feet kicking in the air as she sat on a bar stool. She had her other hand wrapped around the edge of the seat, her delectable little ass firmly planted in place, seemingly the only part of her body not moving. Her hair was its usual riotous mess, and that special smile was making her brilliant. 

Without a thought, Cullen found himself walking to her. He tried to push down the excited little beats pumping through his chest, the warming of his blood at just the sight of her. Maker, how could she have gotten under his skin so quickly? So smoothly? 

He stopped in front of her, taking in the lines of her tattoo on her lips, her bright eyes and flushed cheeks. She looked especially happy. Even for her. In fact, he peered more closely at her, she looked positively drunkenly happy. She started to make little circles with her feet dangling in the air, and she was slightly leaning to the left. Someone had gotten her drunk. 

“Ari…” Cullen suddenly realized that she was surrounded with members of the Chargers, and that Bull had followed him. They were looking at him, giving him nods of hello or raised glasses full of their typical potent brew. 

“Elle. Ari’elle.” He finished lamely, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “How are you this evening?”

“I am wonderful!” She burst out, leaning forward slightly. “But I am not allowed to leave this chair. Not after I tried to climb Iron Bull.” 

Cullen choked on air. “What?!” He turned his wide eyes around the group, shocked. She had said it so matter-of-factly. 

She nodded gravely. “He is like a halla.” Cullen looked down at her face. “You know,” She brought her hands up to the side of her head, fingers splayed, her thumbs to her temples. “Horns.” She wiggled her fingers for added emphasis, then giggled. 

“Horns,” he repeated slowly, his mind not able to process this information.

“Yeah. Halla; horns. I was going to ride him,” she burst out into another fit of giggles, amused by her own wit. 

“Damn, Red.” Bull chucked along with her, looming over the small elf. “You can ride me any day.” 

Cullen’s brain stuttered even more, heat rising in his throat. Bull and Ari’elle? No, not ever. His hands knotted into fists, teeth biting down to keep the curses from breaking from his tongue.

“Did I tell you I have a thing for red heads?” Bull’s voice had dropped lower, seductively, as he leaned over Ari’elle. Cullen started to see red himself.

Ari’elle immediately stuck her hand out, palm open, and looked expectantly up at the qunari. For a moment Bull just blinked down at her. A viscous little thrill of satisfaction ran through Cullen; Bull wasn’t used to women or men not turning into putty when he used that tone of voice on them. Ari’elle, however, was oblivious to it.

“Err, what?” Bull finally asked, unusually awkward.

“My thing.” Ari’elle flicked frustrated eyes to Cullen, then explained as if to a child. “He said he had a thing for red heads.” She looked down exaggeratingly at her hand. “I’m waiting for it.”

Cullen couldn’t help the crack of laughter, delighting in her (obviously drunken) logic. She did not understand many of the metaphors they used, and it was really quite cute.

“I’ll give you a thing.” Bull purred out, but Ari’elle had turned her eyes back to Cullen, and she didn’t even look at the qunari. The only thing that saved his friend from being punched. 

“I’ll explain later, Ari’elle.” Cullen looked behind her on the bar, where mugs were littered across the surface. “When you aren’t drunk on Maker knows what.”

The blond elven Charger leaned to Cullen, whispering up to him. “She has just had one cup of watered down mead. She is, what you might call, an extreme lightweight.”

Cullen felt his lips twitch, but Ari’elle was still looking at him, so he tried to keep his expression neutral. No need to hurt her feelings, even though he doubted Ari’elle would understand the implications of the word. 

“That’s Dalish.” Ari’elle spoke to him loudly. She nodded prosaically, as if she had imparted some deep wisdom. “She as _vallaslin_ like me” She poked hard at the tattoo on her forehead, then waved her hand at Dalish’s own inked skin. The other elf leaned back hastily, keeping herself from being smacked in the nose. “’Cept hers are green.” Ari’elle frowned. “And Dirthamen’s.” 

Cullen nodded gravely, even though he didn’t fully understand half of what she had just said. But their tattoos were different, after all. He glanced at the blond elf drinking from her tankard. He had never really noticed her before, but she was indeed another Dalish elf. Maybe he should ask her about her reception in the Inquisition, how he could help make things easier for Ari’elle… or any other Dalish elves who may join them, he hastily added to his thought.

Ari’elle leaned forward in her chair, imparting a great secret. On her other side sat the dwarf Rocky. He snaked an arm out and grabbed her by the back of her tunic, keeping her safely in place. Cullen reacted as soon as he realized that Ari’elle would most likely fall out of her seat, but Rocky beat him to it. Cullen nodded to him gratefully, having a feeling this had not been the first time he had saved Ari’elle a trip to the floor. 

“I don’t think she is an archer.” Ari’elle whispered loudly, everyone overhearing her secret. “She calls it a bow… but isn’t it a staff? It’s got a crystal on one end. Not balanced at all. And where is the string?” Laughter was muffled into mugs and fists, amusement at the ongoing ‘secret’. 

Cullen tried to think up some explanation that would be plausible to a first-time drunk. When nothing came to mind, he tried the weakling’s way out. “Uhhh, why don’t you ask her about it later?”

Ari’elle nibbled on her bottom lip, and Cullen felt his gut twist. Finally she nodded in agreement, although she still looked confused and determined to have the answer. He sighed in short relief, and half turned towards Bull, still standing beside him, still watching Ari’elle with an amused and slightly predatory look. Cullen opened his mouth to speak, when Ari’elle let out an exclamation.

“Oh! That’s right! I am supposed to ask you! What is a bl-“

Cullen reacted instantly. One second he was turned away from her, the next he had one hand clapped over her mouth, the other spread over the back of her head. Ari’elle’s eyes were wide, the brown confused and shocked. Around them, the Chargers all stilled and hushed, surprised at his actions. 

Feeling very self-conscious, Cullen dropped his hands from her head like she was red hot. “Ah haha,” he laughed, then winced at how awkward and incredibly dorky he had just sounded. Heat bloomed in his cheeks, and he studiously avoided looking at anyone. 

“Ari’elle,” her name punched out into the interested silence, and she just blinked her big brown eyes up at him, still shocked. “I think you should probably go to sleep. You are going to have a nasty hangover in the morning. Best to sleep it off.” He stood her up, finding her steadier on her feet than he would have thought. “I’ll escort you back.” 

He offered her his arm, a formal gesture, and she just blinked at it for a second. Then up at him. Confusion still written on her face, she slipped her arm through his and allowed him to finally leave the scene he had just created. 

“Night Boss,” Bull called to his retreating back, and choruses of goodnights were then spread quickly across the whole tavern. Cullen almost groaned, but he kept it in. It had been unavoidable. There was no way he was going to let Ari’elle ask him what a blowjob was in the middle of a crowd.

Ari’elle twisted around as they were leaving, waving goodbye to everyone. As they passed through the door, she stumbled over the sill. Cullen jerked her arm up, pulling her closer. She just smiled up to him, happily oblivious to how she was going to feel in the morning.

“Come on Ari,” Cullen murmured after she got her feet under her once again. “Time for you to sleep.” 

They started their slow pace towards the stairs, Cullen practically holding Ari’elle up by her arm and guiding her. With a wild shake of her curls, she leaned onto him, confusion prickling her features. “I am very sleepy. I am usually really wake at this time of night. It is my favorite.” 

Cullen smiled, enjoying the warmth of her arm linked with his, the press of her body. He was glad that he had taken his greaves and shoulder pieces off. Ari’elle would have been uncomfortable with the metal. 

Their walk back to his old tower was quiet, broken only by Ari’elle’s tuneless humming. He looked down at her sleepy face in the moonlight, a warm glow spreading through him. It was very like her; making things up as she went. The night breeze lifted her hair in gentle pulls, ruffled his own curls. Outside of the tavern it was relatively quiet, calm. It was slightly amazing to him, that he could feel such desire for the elf at his side, but also find such peace in her presence. As if the world was happier, more carefree. The tension bled from his neck and shoulders, and he took a deep and contented breath.

Passing by the patrols on the ramparts, they strolled to her tower. They passed into the office, and were alone in the darkness before Ari’elle spoke once more. 

“What did Iron Bull mean? That he had a thing for red heads?” She pivoted around, looking up at him. As she was still holding onto his arm this pressed her against him, her body relaxed and warm through the fabric of his clothes.

Cullen took a tempering breath, resolved that he would keep his calm. “He, ah.” Cullen cleared his throat, ignoring the strangle of possessiveness that tried to stop him. “He meant that he is… especially attracted to people with red hair. Likes to, um, be with them.” 

Ari’elle frowned and tipped her head to the side, pursing her lips. She looked so adorably confused, Cullen noticed, playing havoc with his willpower. He wanted to sink his hands in her curls and tug her closer. 

“You mean,” she said slowly, “like what we did yesterday?” Ari’elle peaked at him through her eyelashes, her chocolate gaze starting to darken and glisten. “He likes to do stuff like that with them?” 

Cullen felt the impact of that sultry look down to his toes. He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes. “Yes,” he breathed out. “Well, ah… I suppose he does.”

Ari’elle started to nibble on her lip again. “I suppose I have a thing for soaking wet humans then.” Her eyes roved over his face, the desire she had experienced last night starting to shine through her innocence. 

Maker, he didn’t even have to be kissing this woman for her to get his blood pumping. He could feel himself hardening in his pants, just from the look in her eyes, the memory of her exposed and clenching around his fingers as she came. The taste of her lips, the feel of her hand moving over him…

Wait, had she said soaking wet? When had he been soaking wet? The night of the rain, she had been the one soaked to the bone. He had been wearing a jacket. Did she mean someone else? Cullen tensed, brain racing through the unpleasant implications. Who had she seen? Blackwall? Rylen?

“Cullen,” Ari’elle purred, jerking him from his thoughts. She slowly ran her hands up the fur of his collar, sensuous finger tangling through the length before sinking into the hairs at the back of his neck. The slight scrap of her nails caused tingles to erupt over his skin, a delighted shiver to rack his body. “What is,” her voice dropped even further to a husky whisper, “a blowjob?”

Restraint snapping, Cullen spun her, backed her up against the wall. Ari’elle’s lips parted, a surprised gasp causing her breasts to heave against her tunic, drawing his hungry gaze down to them. With a rumble, he stepped into her body, pressing his pelvis into hers. He captured her chin with one hand and the other curled over her head on the wall behind her, caging her in. He tilted her head up, forced her to look at him, see what her words did to him. 

“Last night,” he growled out, dropping his head even closer to hers, his words whispering over her lips. “Remember when you had your hand around me?” Cullen ground his cock against her, making sure to rub against her clit, arousing them both. Pleasure speared through him, and it did for her too, he saw with a smirk. Her lashes fluttered and she let out a breathy moan, her head falling limp. His hand tightened on her skin, not letting her escape his gaze. 

“When you moved your hand up and down my cock, made me writhe with pleasure?” He kept up his movements, slow but firm. Cullen ground his molars together, his gut twisting as molten heat poured through his veins. 

Ari’elle said nothing, her lashes just fluttering closed as she moaned. He halted, pulled his hips back. Her eyes flew open at the space he had created, looking at him again. Cullen arched his brow, awaiting her answer. 

“Yes,” Ari’elle moaned, her finger tightening in his hair, trying to draw him down to her. Cullen smirked at her aroused plea. As a reward, he sank back into her, meeting her tilted hips with a particularly well placed thrust. She gasped hungrily.

“A blowjob is where you do the same thing, make me come,” Cullen brought his thumb up to her bottom lip, pressing her mouth open, tracing the delicate lines there. “With your mouth.” He dipped his thumb past her parted lips, “And your tongue.”

Ari’elle kept her eyes locked with his, her pupils dilated with desire. With a deliberate movement, she flicked that tongue along the pad of his thumb, swirling around the tip. Cullen shuddered, his eyes slamming closed as the breath punched from his lungs. He had felt that all the way down to his toes, the wet heat of her tongue shadowed at the tip of his cock. He throbbed, pre-come already rising. He ground himself against her helplessly for a second before he stilled his hips.

“Now yes?” Ari’elle’s lips formed around his finger, caressing the skin. “Please?” Cullen gritted his teeth, her words eager and hot.

Cullen dragged his hand back along her cheek, cupping the back of her head, arching her breasts into his chest. Excitement sparked in her eyes as he pressed into her more, wishing his armor would melt away. He leaned down to her, and she tilted her head back further, lips parting for the kiss. Instead, Cullen dropped down to her ear, and whispered against the sensitive point, “No.”

“No?” Ari’elle whined, disappointment laced in the word. “Why?”

“Because,” Cullen nuzzled her lobe, breathing in deeply the floral scent lingering in her silken curls, the heady perfume of her, “You are drunk.” Cullen nipped the sweet point, soothed the bite with a sweep of his tongue. Ari’elle groaned and rocked against him. “Next time we do this,” Cullen punctuated his word with a thrust of his hips, “You are going to remember all of it. Be part of all of it.” 

With that, he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. Her arms slid down his chest and flopped against the wall. They were both panting, staring at each other. Ari’elle looked as if she could barely stand and was looking at him with all the desire he could have asked for painted on her face. 

Cullen cleared his throat once, but it did nothing to banish the husky tone. “Now, time for you to go to sleep.” He crossed his arms over his chest, willing himself to stay put.

Ari’elle continued to stare at him for a few moments before she narrowed her eyes and slowly pushed herself away from the wall. Keeping her head turned away from him, she sauntered across the room to the ladder. Cullen couldn’t help himself, his eyes dropped down to her hips, watching the sensual roll, the way her pants hugged the sweet curves of her ass. She started to climb up the ladder, her butt rocking back and forth as she made her way up. Just before she reached the opening, she stopped and looked down to him, her expression hot and challenging. 

“Next time, Cullen,” Ari’elle purred, “I’ll make it so you won’t be able to stop.” With that promise, she disappeared from his sight. 

Maker, Cullen cursed as he stared up at the where she had been. She was turning out to be a natural temptress. A wicked smile bloomed over his face. He couldn’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delay, again!
> 
> Come talk to me over on Tumblr! Here: [ Help to keep me motivated, lol!](http://cometeclipsewriting.tumblr.com/)


	25. Chapter 25

“Ari!”

Ari’elle bolted upright in bed, arms flailing, hair flying. Her eyes flew open to catch Cullen’s form for a second. “Wha-“ Bright sunlight streamed through the open window, the broken roof. Too bright; her eyelids slammed shut again. Her head pounded at her sudden movement, and she groaned, sinking into her hands and clutched her temples. Her stomach rolled, protesting everything.

Ari’elle could have sworn she heard Cullen chuckle, but when she peaked her narrowed eyes up at him, his face was in a stern expression. She closed her eyes again, and flopped back onto the cushion of the feather bed and pillows. 

“You are late for training, Ari.” His voice rumbled through the room, far louder than it needed to be. Just to spite her, she was sure.

In reply, Ari’elle grabbed one of the pillows and pulled it over her face, grumbling into the fabric. This was the first she had heard about training. And he expected her to be active right now? She knew from her brief glimpses that her vision was blurry. Her mouth was dry and she felt a little dizzy. 

And to top it all off, she had gotten very little sleep. Cullen had left her… aroused. So much so that when she had crawled into bed, she hadn’t been able to shake it off and fall asleep. She had lain in bed, aching. Frustrated, she had attempted to touch herself, just as Cullen had touched her the night before. Her inexperienced fumbling had just kept her on edge though, doing nothing to relieve her tension. She had given up at some point, instead focusing on cursing the handsome shemlan, imagining the evil things she could do to him to pay him back. 

She pulled the pillow away from her face, and gave him a squinting glare. “It’s all your fault.”

A hint of a smile touched his lips, before he adopted a mock offended look. “My fault?” He touched his chest, “I didn’t tell you to drink anything last night. That was all your idea.”

He was being far too logical this morning. “You know why it is your fault,” she grumbled petulantly.

He shook his head, blond hair gleaming in the sunlight, amber eyes gleaming with mirth. “You can’t blame me for all your bad decisions, you know.”

Ari’elle turned up her nose at him. As best she could while lying in a pile on a bed. “Yes I can.” She closed her eyes wearily, bringing a hand up to rub at the ache behind them, and sighed mightily.

“Here,” his voice dropped, gentled. She opened her eyes to watch him come across the room and pull something from his hip. He placed the flask on the edge of the bed. “Drink this. All of it. It will help with your hangover.”

Ari’elle just looked up at him. She could feel the grumpy pull on her face, but she couldn’t help herself. He looked so rested and amused. Far too amused. It made her want to shake him up a little bit. 

Her lips pulled into a sensual grin; Ari’elle yawned delicately, then put her arms above her head and arched her back, stretching into it. Last night she had ditched a few of her outer clothes, keeping on her undershirt. It was thin enough that her movements pulled the fabric tight over her breasts. Cullen’s eyes dropped down, staring at the now sheer fabric. She pushed herself up to her knees, letting the blankets fall away from her body. She had taken her trousers off, leaving only her smalls in place.

Leaning over the bed to grab the flask, she smiled up at Cullen wickedly. He was looking up and down her body, eyes darkened, expression no longer mirthful. “Yes Inquisitor.” Ari’elle replied in a whisper. “Whatever you command.”

His eyes shot up to her face, and remembering her discovery, Ari’elle slowly licked along her bottom lip. She smirked when she saw him swallow, a heady thrill shoot through her at her ability to make him desire her.

Ari’elle opened the flask and took a sip. It was bitter and warm and unpleasant. Her face wrinkled and she felt her head throb, her hangover showing itself with a vengeance. She clasped a hand to her eyes, groaning.

Cullen chuckled, obviously broken from her attempts to get back at him. He turned and strode for the ladder, climbing down the first few rungs. He stopped and taunted her, “I told you that you were going to have a hangover this morning. As your Inquisitor, I command you to be in the training yard in ten minutes.” 

He just laughed at her and ducked as a pillow flew over his disappearing head.

***

Ten minutes was not much time for her to get ready in, but Ari’elle tried. Although the drink was foul, she resolved herself to the torment and chugged the rest of the liquid in the flask. It went down with the same sludgy feeling her first taste had. She changed out of her clothing, and completed her mourning routine, albeit much faster than she normally would. She threw on some clothes, close fitting but still flexible, perfect for training in. Snagging her gear, she slid down the ladder, a trick she had discovered quite early on. You just had to be careful of splinters.

Dashing along the ramparts, she combed her hair and twisted it back and knotted it out of her face. Cullen’s visit this morning had been the first she had heard of this training. Normally she would impulsively decide to shoot some arrows and snag Sera or Varric for some competition. But she didn’t know what was in store for her today.it

Perhaps she was on time, perhaps she was a little late, but by the time she got to the training yard, two people were sparing in a makeshift ring. Cullen stood to the side, armor gleaming in the summer sun, looking far too handsome and put together. Ari’elle felt her eyes narrow at him, her lips compressed. She probably looked like she had gotten no sleep, most likely because it was the truth. The man didn’t have any right to look so wonderful after how he left her last night. He had probably taken himself in hand and come that way. He said he had done it before.

Cullen turned to her and nodded, then resumed watching the two spar. Now that she was here, apparently it was not imperative that she was needed. Feeling disgruntled and irritated Ari’elle slunked over to the shade of the tavern and slid down the wall. 

Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, she catalogued her aches. She still felt weary, but the gross drink seemed to have taken some of that edge off. Her head didn’t feel so fuzzy, and her stomach was settled. Her eyesight had been almost back to normal, and she definitely felt much steadier. Ari’elle begrudgingly admitted that whatever the disgusting stuff had been, it had helped her. And in a remarkably short amount of time.

“Hey, Red!” Iron Bull’s voice broke her from her reverie. Opening her eyes, she saw Iron Bull standing next to Cullen, and was motioning her to join them. With a groan, she pushed herself to her feet, and crossed the bright practice yard.

“How you feeling this morning?” The qunari chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t think you knew what you were getting yourself into.”

Ari’elle rubbed at her temple, grimacing. “No. I didn’t. I shouldn’t have insisted.” It had been her idea to try the mead, after all. No use placing the blame elsewhere. Except for on Cullen, but that was for a different reason entirely.

Cullen ignored her discomfort and went straight to the business of explaining. “Bull and I were talking this morning, and we both realized that you may not be prepared for some situations you may encounter when you leave tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? She was leaving tomorrow? Her heart dropped, dismay filling her. She blinked up at Cullen, confused and hurt. But…

Iron Bull interrupted her thoughts, made her realize she was staring at Cullen. She blinked and tore her eyes away. “You all encountered a party of Red Templars when you were on your way here. And did pretty well for yourself. But we are going to be traveling in a small group, just four of us most of the time. Chances are, someone is going to get close to you, and we need to know that you at least have the basics for defending yourself when you are in that situation.”

Ari’elle swallowed, trying to push through the tumultuous feelings. Right. This was the whole reason she was even part of the Inquisition; to help by closing Rifts. She firmed her resolve, felt her focus sharpen back into the forefront. “Okay. What do I do?”

Cullen grabbed a practice sword and shield, brought forward when he motioned. “First, let’s see your ability to fight off attacks when you have no arrows left. Just you and your bow.”

Ari’elle licked her lips, and nodded, removing the arrows from her quiver. Her stomach fluttered anxiously as she followed Cullen into the now empty practice ring. She quickly put the string on her useless bow, and waited.

“Your armor is not much protected against a heavy blow,” Cullen fell into a fighting position, circling around her. “Try to keep out of distance of any swords.” He suddenly darted forward, and Ari’elle jumped to the side, spinning to keep her front to Cullen.

“Always be aware of your surroundings,” Iron Bull boomed from behind her, and Ari’elle jumped in shock, felt the thwack of a wooden blade on her shoulder. 

She gritted her teeth, the point made. In keeping her eyes on Cullen, she had not noticed Bull stepping into the ring, brandishing a practice sword. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Bull stepped out once more. “Sorry, Red. Won’t do it again. We just needed to make the point.” 

Ari’elle and Cullen started up their circle, Cullen calling out pointers explaining body language that might give away how an enemy may attack. Or how to minimize energy expenditure, how to use the enemies thrusts against them. 

“Your bow is your weapon, but it is slight. Too easily broken or cut. Don’t use it to deflect a blow unless absolutely necessary. You never know when you might be presented with another arrow you can use.” Cullen stepped around her, bringing his sword down in a mock cut. At the same time, Bull stabbed an arrow tip into the ground to her back. Ari’elle dodged out of the way, and rushed to get the arrow, snagging it and notching it just in time to mimic catching Cullen in the chest as he came after her.

“Good,” he smiled. “But remember, some armor is thicker than others. At this short of distance, you may not have enough force to actually pierce the metal. When you have little doubt of missing, aim for the exposed areas: head, neck, shins. An arrow through the shin can be just as deadly as through the neck.”

Ari’elle beamed at him, pleased he thought she was doing well. She relaxed a little, tossed the useless arrow back outside the ring. And that’s when Cullen started the attack for real.

He charged at her, swinging is blade in a wide swipe. Ari’elle reacted as fast as she could, jumping back, dodging to the side. Cullen continued smoothly, his years of practice evident in his quick pivot and sure movements. Ari’elle gulped as she darted away, practically running from him. But he was bigger than her, much stronger, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to run forever. 

Ari’elle dove and rolled as he swung the practice sword. On an impulse, she lashed out with her foot and caught the blade, the tip bouncing to the ground. Cullen, instead of taking the time to right the blade, let it drop from his hands, and then grabbed her, wrapping one arm around her waist and one around her neck, hauling her into his body. She dropped her bow, unable to maintain her grip.

Ari’elle struggled, but couldn’t escape his strong arms. After a moment she stopped, panting in defeat. Cullen’s amber eyes gleamed as he looked down at her stooped shoulders, her frown. “Just because someone has a sword, doesn’t mean that they are harmless without one.” He tightened the arm around her neck. “In this position you are helpless, and you have nothing to aid your escape. You are either dead or captured.”

Ari’elle let the smirk she had hidden break free, her eyes gleaming. “Not quite.” Ari’elle lifted her elbow, and put more pressure on her secret. A crack of laughter shot from Iron Bull on the sidelines as she exposed her obsidian dagger, pressed into the seam of Cullen’s armor, positioned perfectly to thrust between his ribs and pierce his heart. Her lips curled in a smug smile. “I think I have a fair chance.” 

Cullen’s eyes darkened instantly, intense heat racing over his features before he carefully controlled them. Ari’elle’s heart thumped and she sucked in a breath. He stared down at her for a long second before he lowered his head fractionally before rumbled out, “Don’t you _dare_ get drunk tonight.” 

His words vibrated through her, more felt than heard. She shivered, growing damp between her legs in a rush. Dazed with the sudden flood of desire racing through her, she could only gape up at him, her lips parted.

He dropped his arms and stepped away, pasting a rueful smile on his face. “Good job, Ari’elle.” He went and picked up his sword. “But still rough. Again?”

***

They continued with their drills as if nothing had happened. Or, at least, Cullen had. He had been calm and collected, giving perfectly reasonable insight and suggestions, as well as teaching her any number of ways to get out of or avoid close counter fights. 

Ari’elle, on the other hand, had felt like a mess. She hadn’t been able to focus very well, and she felt like she had stumbled through, barely learning anything. She must have, however, because her reaction times to Cullen’s attacks had gotten quicker. More muscle memory than any cognitive thinking. 

After a few hours of that, though, they had broken apart. Cullen needed to return to his duties, and Ari’elle, she was informed, needed to pack. For the rest of the day she had been attached to one person after the other. She was given lists of things she would need from Varric, and she had been outfitted with camping equipment and fighting gear with help from him and the quartermaster. Then Dorian had helped her choose clothing and personal items. Blackwall had helped her pack her saddlebags and went through the tack for her horse. 

The mad dash through Skyhold seemed to take her everywhere, but Cullen was nowhere. She didn’t see him once since he had left the practice yard without a backwards glance. She still felt a bit baffled by the suddenness of everything. Ari’elle had known she would be leaving soon, but only a day’s notice? For a short time, she had worried that Cullen was sending her away because he didn’t want her around anymore. But then she had seen that he still desired her. So what was the reason?

For the brief time between her dinner and sunset, she had taken refuge in the gardens, kneeling side by side with Cole. She had hummed a tune as she tended the herbs, delighting in the little sprouts that had pushed their way through the rich soil, and talked softly with the quiet young spirit. She reminded him about the care of the little herbs. How, when they started to grow, to teach tendrils to twine, stake stalks which were fragile. He gently asked questions or just spoke in that odd way of his. When she returned, would some of her flowers be blooming? 

Now, though, it was fully dark and she sat on her rooftop looking over the courtyards. Noise range from the tavern, but Ari’elle felt no desire to head there. Instead she worried her lip and watched for Cullen. He would come to her, right? Or was she supposed to go find him? Prickles of heated anticipation raced down her spine, and her stomach flip-flopped. An unbidden smile spread over her lips. Her mouth, huh? 

Way up high, Ari’elle saw movement in the tower windows. The Inquisitor’s rooms. A door to the balcony opened, and Cullen stepped out onto it, and leaned against the railing, propping his chin in his hand. Ari’elle jumped to her feet, her blood racing through her. Without thought, Ari’elle waved up to him.

For a moment, it seemed like he didn’t see her. Then he turned his head and his gaze landed on her. She knew it had, she could feel it even at this distance. He straightened instantly and then gave her a little wave, an almost self-conscious one. With those brief moments, he turned and disappeared into the room. 

Her heart sank and she slumped, pursing her lips. Maybe he did want her to leave. She had been right earlier in thinking that.

The lights in Cullen’s room turned off. Ari’elle blinked, then hope filled her. Maybe he was coming to see her now? Ari’elle leaned over the crenelated stone, watching for him. 

A few minutes later, her heart jumped excitedly and she smiled. There he was, exiting the solar door. She grinned, leaning on the stones to watch him cross the distance to her door. He strode quickly, his face a mask of determination. Giddy excitement raced through her, and Ari’elle spun, dashing across the roof. She heard the door close just as she was starting down through the hole in the roof. 

Shimmying and then dropping the rest of the way down into the darkened room, Ari’elle’s heart pounded as she waited for Cullen. Before seconds passed, he was there, climbing the last few rungs of the ladder, and then standing before her, tall and broad-shouldered. Imposing and arresting.

For a few heartbeats they just stared at each other, the air thick with tension. Cullen finally looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “You did good today. At practice, I mean.” His eyes darted to her before looking away again. “And today was… a nice day…” his words trailed off. 

He looked awkward and adorable with his nervousness and Ari’elle couldn’t help but smile. “Cullen.” She took a step towards him. He looked at her, honey eyes roving over her face, warming to rich amber by what he saw there. Slowly, Ari’elle put her hands on his shoulders, her gaze dropping down to his lips, licking her own in anticipation. Unable to contain the heat rolling through her, she pressed against him, and lifted on her toes. Echoing her words from yesterday, she breathed, “Now yes? Please?”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to QueenoftheProcrastination! Because you are wonderful!

Ari’elle watched the way the amber of his eyes disappeared, pupils dilating. How the nervousness he tried to hide sharpened into a hungry, desperate heat. His lips parted, a slow breath sucked into his lungs. She slowly moved her hands from his shoulders up his neck, feeling the rasp of the fine hairs along her palms. One settled on his cheek while the other kept moving, tracing down his scar, along the curve of his lip. His breath was hot on her fingers, already moving quicker. The candle light flickered, making the blond in his hair, the stubble on his cheeks, glitter. He was undeniably handsome.

“You said my mouth. My tongue.” She flicked her eyes up to him, showing all the heat she could feel burning in her body. Cullen’s gaze seemed to haze even more, drop unerringly down to her lips. “Tell me how,” Ari’elle whispered as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Cullen’s tether seemed to snap, and he grasped her hips, bringing her into his body harder. A muffled growl rumbled through his chest against her has he took, hard and fast. Ari’elle tingled, feeling shivers race down her spine, pool in her belly. Her nipples pearled as he dipped inside her mouth, tasting her, demanding she taste him in return. Ari’elle combed her fingers up into his curls, holding on as he arched her backwards, crowding into her body. Ari’elle rocked her hips up into him, feeling the hard press of him, insistent against her belly. He groaned again, repeating the motion, and she went wet between her legs.

A misty thought returned to her brain as Cullen pulled her shirt from her waistband, slipping his hands up her bare back. Right, there was something she was determined to do. And not just give him a blow job. Ari’elle smirked as she licked his scar and took a deep fortifying breath, breathing in his unique masculine scent. It reminded her of this morning, of sparing with him. Of his growled words “Don’t you _dare_ be drunk tonight.” And of her promise to herself. 

She pulled back slightly, resisting as he tightened his arms, trying to keep her in place. But she was determined, and Cullen relented slightly, bringing his lips to her neck and ears, scattering little nips of his teeth and sweeps of his tongue along the sensitive flesh. Ari’elle shivered, but shook her head, resolute to do what she had set out to do. 

She brought her hands to his belt, working at the buckles holding it in place. Her fingers felt clumsy as she tugged and pulled, but it finally came apart. Ari’elle quickly moved on to his cloak, slipping her hands beneath the weight and pushing it off his shoulders. She didn’t even hear them fall, already moving on. Shaking slightly, she looked down at his trousers. He was erect, thick and straining against his pants. With light fingers, she slipped her hand down between them and traced over the bulge gently, testing.

Cullen groaned against her neck, his body surging into her. Ari’elle could see much more of him now, the way the fabric of his shirt stretched over the width of his shoulders, the bunching of his arms. She gulped a breath at the erotic roll of him, the taught coverage over his thighs. 

Ari’elle tore at the lacings, eager, excited. Cullen’s hands sped up as well, moving up to her breasts, tweaked her nipples. Her breath caught in her throat and she unsuccessfully tried to ignore his ministrations. His hands were too warm, his body too big and powerful to just pretend he wasn’t touching her. But she had stubbornness on her side. 

Ari’elle slid down to her knees, slipping from his arms, and started working quickly on the lacings holding his pants together. Within moments, they were open, and Ari’elle slowly slid them down. Her palms ran down the fabric of his shirt, until her fingers encountered warm skin. His shirt kept him covered, hidden from her, but Ari’elle stuck with her plan. Humming in pleasure, she felt the tense muscles of his thighs, the smoothness of his skin paired with the crispness of the little curly hairs spread all down his legs. She rasped her nails a little, causing Cullen to tense even more as she pulled his pants down to his ankles.

Ari’elle tossed a glance up to Cullen, a smile spreading at his intent gaze. She flicked her tongue out along her bottom lip, and Cullen gulped. He reached up and grabbed the back of his shirt, ripping it off his body, and then there he was. Fully naked in the candle light.

“Creators,” Ari’elle breathed, shooting to her feet. He was gorgeous. Wonder briefly pushed aside her plans, and she reached out with her hands, smoothing them along the muscles of his pectorals. He was better than what she had seen all those nights ago. His wet shirt had shown some of him, but nothing could compare to the golden smoothness of his skin, the faint scars that spoke of his warrior nature, the strength in his body. 

Her fingers traveled along his stomach, dipping into the indentations, raking through the hairs that lead down to and around his cock. She had seen him before, but it had been in the moonlight. Now she knew the hair here was darker than that on his head, more curly. His cock was darker pink, the color more urgent than she would have expected. With feather light fingertips, Ari’elle traced up the underside, seeing the prominent vein there, the sharp ridge before the wider head. Cullen’s body clenched, a breath whooshed out of his lungs. The control he exerted onto his body just made him seem bigger, his muscles stand out sharper. 

“Ari,” he growled, some sort of protest. 

“Shh,” She murmured, “I was the one naked last time.” Ari’elle’s hand left him, and she circled around, her eyes eagerly looking at his displayed body. “This time it is my turn to look. To explore.” 

Cullen groaned, and clenched his jaw, but he stayed still, watching her as best he could without moving his body. She slid her hand up to his shoulder and down his arm, testing the thickness of his biceps, tracing the ropes of muscles that cut into the line. They were… incredibly pleasing, Ari’elle dazedly noticed. What was it about his muscles that were so attractive? 

As she crossed to his back, her hands roamed everywhere, and she could feel herself growing wetter, her intentions fogging with arousal. Every time she would replace her hands he would give a little start, seeming to be barely holding onto his control. And it pleased her. Greatly. The fact that just her touch alone could make him so stimulated, aroused? She could barely stand it. 

Her hands traced the hollows in his delicious butt, recalling how it had looked cupped by his wet pants. No, she would never regret making the decision to accept the Anchor. It had led her here. 

“You are so…” Ari’elle stepped back around him, her fingers tracing the muscle that ran down his lower abdomen, creating a V-shape. “You are so hard everywhere.” Her fingers continued downward, before she wrapped them around his cock. “Here too.” She breathed up to him, stepping closer. 

Cullen’s eyes slammed shut, and he rocked, pumping himself in her hand. “Cullen,” Ari’elle whispered against his collarbone, tasting his skin and breathing in his scent. “Show me what to do. Teach me how to give you a blowjob.” 

“Ari,” he rumbled out, his hands cupping her head. He gulped in a breath, then slowly released it. He seemed to be searching for words, but then finally just gasped out. “Down, on your knees. Like you were before.”

Ari’elle sank down, obeying him with eagerness. She was excited to try this. Anticipation had not helped her settle down any last night, had her hot just thinking about it, and Cullen seemed to really like the idea too. “Now,” Cullen licked his lips, watching her avidly, eyes fixed on her mouth. “Lick me.”

Ari’elle looked up at him, feeling a rush of power at how expectant he looked, how desperately he wanted her to do this. His lips were parted, his chest moving deeply with each breath. A smile curving her lips, Ari’elle obeyed his instructions. 

Ari’elle gave one long lick along the tip of his cock. Instantly Cullen clenched his hands at his side, a deep rumbling groan pushing past his lips. Ari’elle kept going, licking there again, before starting to explore around a little. Pressing her lips down the underside, she licked the vein there, along the ridge. She moved down one side, and back up the other, knowing that this would not be enough for him. But it was serving her purposes quite well. She looked up to Cullen’s face; it was quite fun to torture him. 

Her mouth, he had said. She quirked an eyebrow, then gave one long lick all the way up to the tip again. With that thought in mind, Ari’elle put her mouth around his cock, and dropped down until she couldn’t take anymore. 

“Ari,” Cullen’s hands shot into her hair, and when she licked at him while he was inside, he clenched his fingers in her curls. With a definitely agonized groan, he forced his hands out of her hair and back to his sides, fists clenching and unclenching. “Up and down,” he pushed out, “like how you used your hand.” A curse word spilt from his lips as she slowly started to oblige. “Maker, like that, yes.”

Ari’elle set into a rhythm, her head bobbing up and down, using her tongue to swirl around him as best she could. Cullen’s feet kicked out, and he braced himself further, his hands fisted at his sides. It seemed like he wanted to hold her head, but he was not letting himself. 

“Ari, suck.” Ari’elle took as much of him into her mouth as possible, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat. She made a questioning noise, a hum, and Cullen’s body seized. “Fuck,” he cursed, his hands gripping his thighs so tightly he left white bands behind. Ari’elle would have grinned wickedly if her lips weren’t stretched around him. Cullen’s face was contorted into that pleasure/pain she had seen before, his brows down, jaw clenched and lips parted, nose flared. She could see the muscles of his abs and arms in sharp relief as he held himself still.

Ari’elle drew back off him slowly, then asked innocently, “What did you say?”

Cullen took a panting breath then cleared his throat. “Ah. I said suck.” He brought one hand up to her chin, and pushed his thumb inside. “When you have my cock in your mouth, suck on me.” Ari’elle obeyed on his thumb instantly, her sex clenching at his words. Creators, his voice saying such things made her tremble, and answering wetness welling in her. Just like she had been last night, when he had left her.

With resolved purpose, Ari’elle attempted to calm things down for a moment. “Do you want to sit? You look a bit shaky.” She gave a casual lick over the tip still held in her hands, trying to keep the guile off her face.

He dragged a hand through his hair and down over his face, then looked at the bed dominating the room. Ari’elle stood and led him to the bed. With an impatient look on his face, Cullen sat at the edge, and Ari’elle smoothed her hands up his thighs, before grabbing him in her hands once more. She measured his face, his control, for a long moment before she started up again.

She took him in her mouth, bobbing up and down like she had before. Then after a short time, she sucked on his width. “Maker!” Cullen barked, his hands twisting into the blankets at his hips, thrusting upwards. Ari’elle laughed around him as she rode his thrust, keeping him barely in her mouth. He liked this quite a bit, didn’t he?

Ari’elle set a slower pace, knowing that it was getting to him. His body started twitching more and he tried to keep himself from pushing up into her mouth, but it seemed to be getting harder and harder for him to stop himself. And he started to give up those little drops of liquid again. It tasted different than how his skin tasted. Saltier and thicker, but not unpleasant. 

Cullen’s cock twitched in her mouth, and his head released bonelessly, sagging back on his shoulders, his breath sawing out of his chest. He was close, she knew. Time for her to exact her revenge. 

She sucked him particularly deep in her mouth and pumped her hand on the base of his cock, firmly and strongly, like how he taught her. He cursed and his hips jumped up into her, hitting her in the throat again. Initiating her plan, she started coughing. 

Instantly, Cullen stopped, pulling her away from him. “Ari!” She sat back on her heels, exaggerating her coughing. “Shit! I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to… shit. Sorry.” He smoothed his hand over her hair and along her cheeks, apologizing in his desire roughened voice. Through her eyelashes, Ari’elle took stock of him, noting things. His hands were shaking, sweat beading on his forehead and chest. His breath was still coming raggedly, and his cock still was rock hard and pulsing. She needed to take a little more time.

“It’s alright Cullen,” she smiled gently up at him. “I just need a minute.” He nodded quickly in agreement, before dropping down to her. He kissed her lightly, then gave her plenty of space while she cleared her throat and coughed a few more times. He continued to pet her hair, tracing her _vallaslin_ with slightly trembling fingers. She ran her hands lightly up and down his calves, thinking that it would be more of a comforting gesture, not an erotic one. The man had tortured her last night; it was only faire she got her little payback tonight, make him suffer in the best and worst way she knew how.

In a few minutes Ari’elle deemed that Cullen was back from the ledge, and she brought her hands up to his thighs, lightly dragged her nails up the sensitive insides. Cullen sucked in a breath, his eyes flashing hotly down at her before her closed them. “I’m ready,” she wrapped her hands around his cock, and Cullen eagerly sat back once more, widening his knees so she could settle between them again. 

Ari’elle quickly set her pace, sucking on him, pumping her head up and down, flicking her tongue along the ridge of cock, tracing the vein, whatever part she could. And Cullen quickly raced towards the edge, this time seemingly even more out of control. Ari’elle couldn’t fit his entire cock in her mouth, so she started moving her hand in the rhythm he had taught her two nights again, synchronizing her mouth. He was getting closer, moans starting to drop from is lips, her name groaned out with his pants. 

She could taste his pre-come more and more, could feel his cock growing harder and larger, and that is when she pulled back again. He growled in protest, his hands sinking into her hair before opening his eyes and looking down at her. “Cullen,” she slid her cheek along his cockhead, “What should I do when you come?”

His nose flared as he sucked in a breath, staring unblinkingly at her mouth. His face was flushed, Ari’elle noted, his whole body was. And his cock was an even deeper pink than it had been before. He was definitely hotter too, his body sheened with sweat. Good. It seemed like her plan was working perfectly. 

“Your choice,” his voice rasped out. He took a few unsteady breaths and shook his head hard, trying to clear it. “Some, ah, don’t like the taste. You can use your hands like you did last time.” He cleared his throat. “Or you could… swallow it.” In her hands, he twitched. Ari’elle knew which one he seemed to like the idea of more. “I need to warn you, though,” He twisted his hands in her hair, not pulling, just holding her more tightly. “I’ve… I will come a lot.” His teeth gritted and he breathed out under his breath, “It’s agony.” 

Ari’elle pressed her lips together as she ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her grin of satisfaction. Another little cooling off period just prolonged it all, making him feel it even more. Ari’elle started to use her hand, fast and firm, a drop of pre-come welled, so she lapped it away. Let him think she had made her decision. 

“Cullen.” He grunted in acknowledgement, amber eyes hot as the watched her. “Do you feel hot?” He nodded once, sharply. “And achy?” he growled. Ari’elle licked from the base of his cock to the tip. “Can you think at all?” He shook his head. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Maker, no,” He pushed out, his hands tightening reflexively in her hair. 

“Am I torturing you?” Ari’elle gave a particularly firm tug, sucking on just the head of his cock. 

His hips jerked upwards, and he hissed out “Yes,” his body surging beautifully.

Ari’elle let the self-satisfied smirk spread across her lips as she stopped her hands. “Good.” Cullen was so dazed that it took a few moments before her words penetrated, then he looked shocked and furious for a moment. Ari’elle took away his anger, though, as she sucked in his cock and started to work him hard and fast. He swelled under her touches, moaning and cursing as his hips pushed him up into her mouth. His hands clenched in her hair and Ari’elle sucked as hard as she was able to. Cullen threw his head back in one long gasp, then shouted out a curse, her name. His whole body tensed, and he hunched over her, his big body caging her as he started to come. Ari’elle felt him release, and she swallowed as much as she could, moving her hands and keeping up her suction as his cock jerked, his hips jolting erratically as he grunted and moaned. 

Cullen’s hands held her in place when he slowly started to slow and calm, twitching every few seconds. He pulsed in her mouth a few more times, and Ari’elle swept away the liquid that beaded. She slowed her hands, listening to his ragged and uneven breathing. Finally, Cullen’s hands relaxed and she sat back, smirking up at him. 

He was a glorious mess. His hair was disheveled and sticking to his forehead. In the candle light his skin was golden and shimmering, Ari’elle saw the past in the way he looked, only now was better. He was panting, deep gulping breaths that seemed to move his whole body. He was sweating and shaking and looked drained. He had his head down and his eyes closed, taking much longer to catch himself than he had the other night. Good, she had made an impression then. Feminine pride made her arch her back, lips curve even more sensually. She loved this.

Suddenly Cullen’s eyes flipped open and settled darkly on her. A shiver skated up her back, the ache between her thighs coiling tighter. That furious look was back, but she wasn’t afraid at all. Somehow it was sexy. With a growl, he reached for her, stood her up, and tore off her clothing. Within seconds she was naked, and Cullen hoisted her by the waist and tossed her on the bed. 

Ari’elle gasped in shocked delight, scrabbling to sit up. “Did all that on purpose, did you?” He planted a heavy arm over her stomach, keeping her from rising. “Minx,” he growled. He grabbed one of her knees and pulled her leg up and to the side. “Now you get your punishment.” He muscled his chest between her thighs, dragged her leg over his shoulder and licked right up her sex. Ari’elle fell back against the bed, her mind blanking at the rush of pleasure that shot through her body, up her spine.

“Maker,” He cursed, “you are so wet. Did it arouse you to blow me?” He ran the flat of his tongue up her again, avoiding the sensitive point at the top of her cleft. “Did sucking my cock until I was panting and making me come get you this hot?” Ari’elle just arched and moaned, reason deserting her. “Fuck, you are almost there yourself, aren’t you? Ari’elle,” Cullen’s voice became that of the Inquisitor, demanding her attention. “Look at me.” 

Her eyes fluttered open, and she peered down her body, to where he stared up at her heatedly. With deliberate motions, Cullen licked his lips. “You are delicious.” With that, he dropped his head and set into it. He licked her, all the way up to her clit, and caught it in his mouth. With a growl, he sucked her at the same time he sank a finger into her, curling and pressing against that spot inside, driving her wild.

Ari’elle cried out, her hands shooting to his hair, and she bucked, unable to prevent herself from moving restlessly, chasing after the pleasure she knew he could give her. He pistoned his finger in and out, playing with her while his teeth and tongue worked at her clit. Words, a mix of elfish and common, tore from her as her body ran screaming for her own release. Cullen drove her hard, and when he thrust a second finger into her, Ari’elle splintered apart and came, her cries filling the room.

Cullen stopped moving his fingers, but he didn’t withdraw them, and Ari’elle could feel herself still throbbing around them. He gently licked her, and Ari’elle shuddered, too sensitive. She blearily opened his eyes, and looked at him. When he saw her blissed expression, the way she could barely open her eyes, he raised his head and grinned at her wickedly. “Payback is only fair.” And he slowly started again.

While before she had been already half out of her mind, this time she felt everything sharply. She was acutely aware of what he was doing, sensitive to every motion. Cullen started slowly scissoring his fingers inside her, avoiding that spot, but still making her squirm. His other hand, which had just been holding her waist in place, smoothed up her ribcage, and reached her nipple. He rasped his open palm against one, then the other, repeating the gentle motions and causing them to pearl more. 

“Cullen,” she protested weakly, twisting and trying to push his head away, but then his gentle laps at her clit started to send little zings of pleasure arching deep inside her. The first time she gasped in pleasure, Cullen withdrew his fingers, and she moaned in protest. He wrapped an arm around her other thigh and brought it over his shoulder, then brushed a calloused finger along her clit. Ari’elle gasped and arched into him, but he didn’t continue. Instead, he held her lips open, and set in with his mouth.

He licked and sucked, nipped and caressed with his mouth, and Ari’elle cried out in pleasure, rolling her hips up to him, her hands reflexively tightening in his curls. The hand on her breasts became more aggressive, pinching at her nipples, pulling them, plumping and smoothing. This time he was slower, more exploratory as he licked and tasted. He lapped at her, pushed his tongue inside, mimicking what his fingers had just done, teasing her with slow broad strokes and fast flicks. 

Ari’elle knew she was saying things, but she didn’t know what. Blistering white stars were slowly coalescing, and all she could pay any attention to was how Cullen was driving her body. “Cullen,” she gasped out, bucking up into his lips “Please!” 

With a dark chuckle, Cullen pinched her nipple, and his other hand plunged two fingers into her, pistoning in and out as he sucked hard on her clit. Ari’elle easily imagined that it was him, his cock that she had just been sucking now moving hard and fast inside her. She felt the stars inside her explode, and she fell apart once more. 

Ari’elle lay panting; her body sprawled on the bed. Finally she became aware of Cullen, moving up and splaying next to her. She dazedly rolled her head over, find him watching her. His eyes were warm honey, his face relaxed and tired. If Cullen was any indicator of how she looked, then her lids were drooping, hair tangled and every which way. Yet, for how tired Cullen looked, he seemed to glow, relaxed and peaceful. For a long time they just stared at each other, feeling their bodies calm and breath even out and synch together.

Cullen reached out a scarred hand and brushed a curl from her cheek, his big palm cupping her jaw, fingers tracing her pointed ear, thumb caressing along her cheekbone. “You alright?” 

Ari’elle turned and kissed his palm, smiling gently. “Perfect.” He grinned at her, pure male satisfaction, and then pushed himself up with a groan. 

As he stood and stretched, revealing his magnificent body, she wished she could enjoy his movements more. The muscles of his back and shoulders rippled as he arched left and right, a beautiful display. Ari’elle bit down on her lip, knowing he had to go, but suddenly wishing that he could stay. That she could fall asleep next to him, holding him, listening to his breathing. It was selfish of her, but she suddenly ached for it. She looked down, trying to keep the disappointment from showing on her face, feeling lonely and close to tears.

Instead of walking to his clothes, Cullen came over to her side and slid his arms under her and lifted her up. Surprised, Ari’elle wrapped her arms around his shoulders, looking up at him. He looked just as before, nothing changed. Cullen flipped back the blankets and then placed her against the warm sheets. Once he settled her down, instead of leaving, he followed her inside. 

Joy filled her as Cullen grabbed the blankets, tugging them up and over where they lay. Ari’elle turned and snuggled into his chest, startled by how naturally she fit against him. He dropped an arm over her waist, slid a leg through hers and then tilted her head up. Lazily he kissed her, relishing the easy harmony between them. He gently kissed down her _vallaslin,_ from the tip of the arrow on her forehead to the feathers on her chin, and then pressed against her lips for a longer taste. Little sips that were not about arousal, all about affection. 

Ari’elle sighed against his lips, feeling the heavy drag of sleep pulling her down. They settled against each other, before Cullen asked her “What does ‘Vhenan’ mean?” Ari’elle stiffened with surprise. “You kept saying it,” Cullen chuckled and yawned, “when I was driving you out of your mind.” He shifted his leg up, pressing the muscled thigh against her sex, reminding her of what he meant. As if she could have forgotten it. She forced herself to relax, breath evenly.

“Oh,” she said weakly, pushing out a laugh, “just an elvish word.” Her sluggish mind churned, “It means… ah… hurry.” Her face was hidden as she was tucked up beneath his chin, so Ari’elle didn’t bother to try to hide her expression, worrying at her lip.

“Good,” Cullen yawned greatly. “I’m glad it wasn’t ‘stop’.” He let out a pleased sigh and relaxed into the feathered bed.

Ari’elle shook her head, running a hand soothingly up and down his arm, an exhale of relief that Cullen had accepted her explanation brushing across his bare chest. 

Oh Creator’s what was she going to do? She had promised herself she would never say anything; never let him know that part of her heart she kept hidden. At least…

She prayed she was keeping it hidden.


	27. Chapter 27

“Cullen!” 

Ari’elle’s worried cry jerked Cullen out of sleep. Heart pounding he sat up quickly, looking around “Wha…”

A single candle remained lit, the flickering flame enough light for him to check his surroundings. He was safe, in Skyhold, in his old and now Ari’elle’s loft bedroom. Ari’elle sat upright at his side, gently rubbing her hand on his shoulder, easing away the tension. With an exhausted sigh, he flopped back onto the pillows, rubbing his eyes. 

“Cullen, are you alright?” Ari’elle asked gently. “You looked like you were in pain, and you were muttering something.” He opened his eyes and smiled up at her sheepishly. She looked sleep-rumpled, her glorious curls just as tangled as he had made them, her cheeks flushed with sleep. But she looked worried and concerned, her chocolate eyes darker. He had clearly woken her with his nightmares.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just some… bad dreams,” he said negligently. His past was not something he wanted to tell her. He didn’t want her to know what a bastard he had been. He was different now, and that was all that mattered. If only the nightmares would stop, his cravings for lyrium. Then he would be as he should. 

Ari’elle knitted her brow and nibbled at her lip, measuring his expression. After a moment she nodded and slightly smiled, still concerned, but willing to overlook it if that is what he wanted. “Alright. I hope you don’t have them too often.” 

Cullen slowly let his eyes wander, dropping down to her naked shoulders, breasts, waist. “I think there are pleasanter things for me to dream about now.” He wasn’t about to tell her how often his nightmares plagued him. Even now he could feel that unquenchable thirst at the back of his throat. Pushing it aside as best he could, he held up his hand to her, inviting her to come down to him. 

Ari’elle smiled and slid down, draping herself across his chest and tucking her head beneath his chin. He sighed as he felt the smooth glide of her skin against his, her warm weight grounding him in reality. He noted with distinct approval the press of her breasts, soft and lovely. He dropped a kiss on her head, breathing in the scent of varying flowers. She must have been braiding them in her hair again. 

For a long moment Cullen closed his eyes and just relaxed. He knew he couldn’t fall asleep again, had to be back in his quarters in the morning. He shouldn’t have risked it once, but after last night… he couldn’t have left Ari’elle so quickly. 

It had been intense, to say the least. Cullen couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so out of control, his desire so strong. And his realization that she had been teasing him back, withholding his orgasm, somehow it had just increased his desire even more. For an innocent, she sure learned quickly. He had been crazed over her too, not satisfied with making her come once. If she hadn’t thoroughly blown his mind and body, he would have gotten hard tasting her, watching her come undone. Ari’elle was a natural temptress, driving him out of his mind. And now that he knew, she would be leaving for a month. 

Tracing down the indentations of her spine, Cullen asked her evenly, “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

For a moment Cullen thought maybe she had fallen asleep, she gave no indication she had heard him, but then she spoke up softly. “I am more nervous, I think. It is all happening so quickly.” She paused for a moment. “I know why it is, don’t get me wrong. I want to be closing Rifts; I want to be helping people. I’m just sad to be leaving… everyone.” Would she miss him? 

“Everyone will still be here when you get back,” Cullen said comfortingly, while a part of him wondered. 

Would it be the same when she returned? Would they still be the same? Much could happen in a month, especially with how dangerous her tasks could be. She would be fighting more. What if she got hurt? Would she need comforting again after killing? Perhaps comforting would lead to more? Dorian would never, and Cullen didn’t think Varric would… but Iron Bull. Cullen didn’t trust Iron Bull to not make a move on Ari’elle. He had already flirted with her plenty on the very first day that he had met her. Cullen could only imagine his attraction and attention would increase as the qunari got to know her sweetness and joy. No one could resist it; look at how she had charmed all of Skyhold within just a few days. Spending a month with her while in close quarters and in life threatening conditions? Iron Bull wouldn’t be able to stand a chance against her, and Cullen didn’t know if she stood a chance against Iron Bull.

“Ari’elle,” Cullen spoke a little sharply, “Be careful out there.” He realized he had tensed up, forced himself to relax before continuing. “It will be dangerous and…” His words trickled off before he could articulate what he meant. He couldn’t just warn her away from Iron Bull. She had a right to what she wanted, and Cullen couldn’t demand that she not pursue others if that is what she wanted. He ground his teeth together, wrestling with himself. 

On top of that, he couldn’t plant the seeds of mistrust in her. She would need to depend on Iron Bull during battle. Her life would depend on him. He sighed heavily, “Trust your companions, Ari. They will keep you safe.”

She giggled, and he could feel her smiling against his chest. “Of course. I already know Varric and Dorian are skilled in a fight. And Iron Bull is as big as an army himself, he must be amazing.” Cullen found his teeth were grinding together again and forced himself to stop. Maker’s breath, what was this? Jealousy? He shook his head wearily. It was too late in the day for this. Or too early. Besides, he was the one she was naked with. 

“I’m more nervous how people will react to me. Dalish are rarely seen, and apparently treated with some mistrust. I hope I don’t do anything that will hurt the Inquisition.” Her voice was filled with sleepy trepidation.

Cullen squeezed her reassuringly, “You will do wonderfully.” Cullen gave a little guffaw, “Besides, it isn’t like the Inquisition has that much of a reputation to hurt. You will only increase our standing, of that I am certain.” It was true; he doubted there was much she could do to make their reputation worse than what it was. Until they could get the Orlesian and Ferelden nobility to recognize them as a true force for change, they would always be looked at as the jumped up organization that rebelled against the Chantry. Ari’elle closing Rifts would be just the thing. 

Ari’elle yawned mightily, sighing and nodded her head. “I hope so,” her words came out soft, slow. She was drifting to sleep again. 

It was time to go. If she fell asleep on him, he wasn’t sure he could make himself move away. Cullen shifted, slipping out from under her and placed his feet on the floor. As tempting as it was to stay, he had to go back. He licked his lips and looked down at her, unsure what to say. What were you supposed to say to a woman you were leaving in the middle of the night? It wasn’t like he had that much experience with this sort of thing. His previous opportunities were… rushed. There was no sleeping together, no real intimacy after sexual situations. They had been encounters, not much more.

She gave him no hurt looks or dismissive words, no clinging or pleading that he stay. Cullen almost frowned. It was contrary, but he sort of wished she would. Ari’elle just gave him a sleepy smile, her eyes half lidded. “Will you be there when we leave tomorrow?” She pulled the pillow he had been sleeping on into her chest, settling around it, a bit like how she had been laying on him. She looked so peaceful, and sleepy, he couldn’t help the warm glow spread through him. 

Cullen smiled down at her gently, brushing her hair back from her cheek. “Of course.” She smiled up at him, that special smile she seemed to reserve just for him. Cullen felt an uncomfortable tightness around his chest, his stomach twist. He wanted to share it in some way, show her without words. He leaned down and took her lips. It was a slow kiss, moving along the velvety softness of her, savoring the moment of connection. He lingered for several heartbeats, pulling the blankets up over her shoulder and tucking her in, before he forced himself to pull back and gather his scattered clothing. 

He dressed quickly, then crossed to the last candle. He looked over to Ari’elle, but she was already asleep, eyes closed and breaths slow and even. A complex emotion rose in him, and he blew out the candle. “Sweet dreams, Ari,” he whispered as he descended the ladder. “See you in the morning.”

***

Ari’elle firmly gave Imperial one last brush, his coat gleaming silver even in the filtered light of the stables. The horse seemed to know she was leaving, much too smart for his own good. He was very insistent that she give him the numerous treats she had hidden in her pockets, his warm muzzle brushing her chest, bumping against her shoulder. 

“Alright, Greedy,” She chuckled to him, pulling out half of an apple. “Going to miss me, are you?” She grinned as he chuffed out his nose, delicately grasping the apple in his teeth before crunching down enthusiastically. 

“Ain’t the only one,” Sera chirped, kicking out her feet from where she sat on one of the empty saddle racks. “Got used to you ‘round.” 

Ari’elle tossed her friend a smile as she pulled out a sugar lump, again offering it to Imperial. “You could always tag along, you know. I don’t think Cullen would mind.” 

Sera snorted and guffawed. “Iron Boots would have a fit that I wasn’t following orders.” She narrowed her eyes and peered at Ari’elle suspiciously. “You didn’t ask him, did ya?” When Ari’elle laughed and shook her head, Sera breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good. Too many weirdies goin’.” Sera looked around the stables quickly, then leaned forward. “’sides. I’ve got plans.”

Ari’elle laughed aloud. Sera’s voice was excited, the type of excited that should set the rest of Skyhold on high alert if they heard it. “Just don’t get kicked out while I am away,” Ari’elle shook her head before giving Imperial his last treat, one of the candies the cooks here made, peppermint. 

“Pfft,” Sera stated so articulately, “They ain’t stupid.” She leaned back, looking smug. “Too good to toss.”

“Red,” Varric’s voice called to her from outside. “Are you ready?”

A sudden wave of nervousness and apprehension hit her stomach, swirling with the excitement and eagerness already there. It made for an interesting and uncomfortable mixture. She took a deep, slightly shaky breath, and firmed her resolve. 

She exited Imperial’s stall, closing the door behind her and moving to where her horse was already saddled and ready to go. She led the mare outside, Sera giving the animal a wide berth as she followed, to where her traveling companions waited. A small crowd had gathered to say goodbye. The Chargers were all there for The Iron Bull, but there were a few to see her off. Cole, standing back a little ways, quietly waiting for her, Josephine, who had become a new friend, and a few of the younger recruits who thought her and Sera’s antics during drills were great fun. 

She did not see Cullen, though. As she said her goodbye’s she tried not to feel disappointed. She already felt like she was going to throw up, she didn’t need to add to it. 

“Twisting, knotting, hard to breathe. Ahead is a big question, behind is safety.” Cole startled her, and Ari’elle turned, peering under the brim of his floppy hat. He was looking at her worriedly, his compassion showing.

“Oh,” she laughed a little, “yes. I suppose ahead is a mystery for me.” Ari’elle nibbled on her lip, twisting her fingers together. 

Before her downcast eyes, Cole held out a small pouch. With gentle fingers, Ari’elle took it from him, reverently feeling the smooth of the velvet, the surprising heaviness. “What’s this?”

“For your seeds,” Cole stated, a happy note lightening his voice. “It is waterproof, will stay dry. So all your new treasures will come back safely.”

“Oh, Cole,” Ari’elle felt her voice catch, tears she hadn’t known she had been holding back now catching in her throat. “It is perfect. Thank you my friend.” She beamed, a little watery, and threw her arms around the spirit, hugging him tightly. Cole gave her a brief, hard hug back, before quickly shrugging from her grasp and slipping away. Ari’elle just smiled and shook her head. The poor boy didn’t know what to do with affection. 

She gently tucked the pouch into one of her saddle bags, then looked around once more. Cullen still wasn’t there. Biting her lip, Ari’elle followed the others as they led their horses towards the gate. A deep disappointment rolled through her, and she pasted a smile on her face. 

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” Cullen’s wonderful voice rumbled out, surprising her. She turned swiftly, and there he was, leaning against the stone of the courtyard. 

“Cullen,” she breathed out, her mind blanking. Pleasure bubbled up from her chest, filling her until a beaming smile replaced the fake one. “You’re here.”

He moved away from the wall, coming up to her. She couldn’t think of anything else to say, so she just smiled up at him, tracing his face with her eyes. She wouldn’t see him for so long, she realized again. Would she remember how warm the honey of his eyes could look? How delicious he was when he was tense and hard with desire? Her eyes dropped down to his lips. Would she remember how he kissed, how he tasted, how his scar felt against her? 

Cullen cleared his throat once, his voice breaking low. “You shouldn’t look at me like that, Ari.”

“Why?” She asked in a daze, trying to memorize him.

His eyes darkened more, his expression turning hungry. “It just makes me what to drag you away and repeat last night.” Ari’elle sucked in a breath, heat tingling through her. Their eyes locked, tension swirling in the air around them.

“Red! Curly!” Varric called out, jerking the two of them away from their trance. They swung their eyes over to where the dwarf was already mounted, looking exasperated. Dorian and Iron Bull were ready as well; everyone was waiting for her. 

Ari’elle licked her lips and sighed. It was time to go. She glanced up at Cullen one more time, before she turned to her mare. 

“Goodbye Ari.” Cullen’s voice rumbled from right behind her, just before he grabbed her waist and tossed her into the saddle. The warmth of his hands burned her, lingered even after they were gone. “Stay safe.” 

A shiver raced down her back, and she quickly settled in and adjusted herself. Taking a second, she looked down to him. “I will. And you too, Cullen.” With a final glance, Ari’elle turned away, and didn’t look back.

Just as she was passing under the metal gate, Sera yelled out, “Ari! Don’t bring back anymore of your ‘treasures’! It’s always, always junk!” 

Ari’elle felt a gurgle of laughter roll from her, echoing joyfully through the tunnel, and her worry and sadness faded as excitement surged. Ari’elle was going to find Sera the most unfortunate thing in all of Thedas.


	28. Chapter 28

Ari’elle’s first letter was a surprise. Cullen received a packet of dispatches, fresh from Leliana’s birds. He recognized Varric’s scrawl on the outside, and eagerly set aside his current documents. He admitted he was worried about the little band, despite it being only a few days since their departure. Although they were following in Scout Harding’s capable footsteps, Ari’elle was no seasoned veteran. Any number of things could go wrong on her trip.

Cullen broke open the wax on the bundle, noticing the depth. There was a definite increase in the amount of paper used for this report; he could only hope it was not due to problems. Varric gave a succinct report, telling of their trip down the mountains, their start around Lake Calenhad. 

The refugees of the Hinterlands, the village of Crestwood, and the Inquisition’s keep Caer Bronach were their main destinations. Ari’elle’s abilities were in great demand, but Cullen couldn’t ignore the sheer amount of people affected by the Rifts in those two regions. Cullen didn’t know if the density of the Rifts were due to the fighting there, but there were certainly opportunities for Ari’elle to help. So she would be traveling first into the thick of the Templar and Mage conflict. 

Cullen winced and rubbed his jaw. He really didn’t want to place her in this position. He sighed heavily and smoothed the papers on his desk, reading Varric’s words by the last of the brilliant summer sun. They were making good time, the roads dry and their horses fresh. In no time, Varric expected to be hitting the Hinterlands. They had encountered only other Inquisition members, and those who didn’t know about Ari’elle were soon made acquainted. Apparently the rumors about her abilities had spread rapidly, however, and the attitude she had been met with mostly was curiosity, not distrust. 

Cullen let himself smile, relief easing some of the heaviness in his chest. Good, she was doing well. For a few days now, he had felt… down. His work seemed more wearing, his days longer and full of frustration. He told himself it was because things were settling back into a routine, but he knew…

_And now, Ari’elle has her own report. She insisted, seemed to think she should get the practice in._ Varric’s scrawl left off with his unreadable signature. Cullen felt his heart jump, and he tossed Varric’s letter hastily to the side. 

_Inquisitor Cullen,_ she began. The words were obviously painstakingly written, but still large and messy. She was a beginner to writing, but Cullen could see that she had been practicing. His lips quirked as he looked at his title; the second i had been left off originally, then crammed back in between the u and s. 

_Inquisitor Cullen,_

_Varric made me re-write this, because I spelled words wrong. He is a good teacher, but he can be mean too. I have had fun so far, and have met lots more Inquisition people. Everyone has been so nice to me, and I cannot wait to see more of Ferelden. We are riding next to a lake that is too big to be real. Dorian tells me there is water that is even greater than this. Bull says he crossed one, a sea, he called it. Have you crossed a sea? How do you do it? I hope you and everyone at Skyhold are doing good and having fun. Has Sera done her pranks yet? Writing is hard, I do not always like it, but I am working on it every day._

_Ari’elle  
P.S. Skyhold is fun to write! Skyhold. Skyhold._

Cullen found himself smile at her words. Skyhold was written more elaborately each time than before, Ari’elle taking care to embellish little details to the word. He could see the attention she put into spelling the names of places correct, how slow and steadily she had written them. There were little blotches of ink every now and then, and hastily correct mistakes, which apparently Varric didn’t feel the need to make her rewrite. 

It was a simple letter, not the words Cullen knew she would say if she were standing here with him, but he couldn’t help but be pleased. He was proud of her for working so diligently on improving herself. He had seen her and Varric working on her letters each day while they had been here, but he hadn’t thought that she would keep it up while journeying. Maybe when they got into the thick of things she wouldn’t be able to, but he wanted to give her a reward.

Cullen pulled out a sheet of paper and quill, an excited buzzing reverberating through him. But then he paused, frowning down at the crisp sheet. What was he to say to her? He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her to be safe, to have fun while she could. He wanted to whisper in her ear the dreams that were rivaling his nightmares. How he would wake hard, and how he no longer had the will to stop himself from taking his cock into his hands and think of what she had done to him. 

Just thinking about the pleasure she had given him for just a few short times made his body heat, made him shift in his chair. Cullen sat back; glad he was only in his shirtsleeves and trousers. The heat of summer was tempered by the cool breeze coming through the balcony doors, but it did little to cool the embers in his gut. He was finding it far too easy to sink into memories, to fight the urge to lock his doors and strip for some time to himself. He was back again to being a randy youth, only now he could have the privacy he had never been afforded before. It was a dangerous temptation. 

With a rueful smile, Cullen leaned back over the paper. He knew what he wanted to write, but he couldn’t. Between Leliana and Varric, the words he wrote were sure to be read by someone else besides Ari’elle. Plus, he didn’t think that she would understand all the things he wanted to describe to her. So instead, he settled for simple and polite.

_Dear Ari’elle,_

_Soon you will be writing with no issues. Just keep up the good work, just like you should keep up your close-quarters training. Ask Varric to show you some tricks, he and Bianca are quite good at staying out of trouble. I know your trip has been easy so far, but it will only get more dangerous. Stay safe, and keep your eyes peeled, even when you think you are safe. There are many conflicts in the regions you are traveling to, not all of them as easily solved as using your magic to close the Rifts._

_I have moved across a sea before, The Waking Sea, when I traveled between Kirkwall and Ferelden. There are very large boats people use to travel such long distances. Travel over water is called sailing, and you use the wind and currents to get where you need to go. Again, ask your companions, they have all traveled in these boats, and may have some interesting stories for you. As for Sera, I have not noticed anything. But I will put the word out there, keep everyone a little safer._

_Please keep me informed. Good luck, Ari’elle. Don’t do anything too rash. We need you._

_Cullen_

Surely no one would find fault with this. It was innocent enough, giving no hint of the… whatever it was between them. Maker knows he had no definition for the tension between them. He shook his head as he waited for the ink to dry. Oh well; he had some time to figure it out, and to perhaps work some of the lust out of his system. Letters would do little to kindle his arousal. Maybe when she came back, he would be able to treat her as just an ordinary soldier. Wouldn’t feel the need to kiss her or caress her.

A definite, but studiously ignored, pang skittered through Cullen. With firm hands, he sealed and addressed the letter, then continued with his work.

***

Ari’elle swiped the back of her hand under her nose, shivering slightly. The rain here was so constant, an endless stream from the sky. She tilted her head back and glared up at the unrelenting gray. When it had rained during her past in her forest, it had been damp, for sure, but the trees had easily blocked the worst of it. The canopy of leaves had created a cloaking effect, keeping her from realizing just how much it could rain. 

Now in Crestwood, though, all it did was rain. Rain and make her jump with each sound from the gloom. She gulped as she strained her eyes, looking around. The undead here were frightening. She hadn’t told her friends yet, but she was scared here, more so than when she had been sandwiched between rouge Templars and crazed Mages. At least for the majority, she could talk to the latter two. The former, however, were creatures completely past reason, past words. Their eyes dead of thought, only wanting to kill. Ari’elle shuddered again, hunching further into herself.

Against her breast, inside the dull colored water-proof jacket she wore, a letter from Cullen waited. A full four weeks of writing back and forth, and Varric’s lessons, had helped to improve her skills. Just last letter, Cullen had said he saw a definite improvement. Ari’elle tugged her hood up more firmly over her head, and pressed a cold hand over her chest, feeling the comforting pages. At least she could write more advanced words now, no longer felt like a child each time she tried to write what she felt. 

Finally, through the gloom, Ari’elle saw the torches surrounding Caer Bronach. She sighed gratefully, excited to get back to a warm meal and somewhat dry sleeping conditions. Before her, Iron Bull whooped with pleasure, and spurred his mount into a faster pace. The poor giant workhorse stirred himself into a faster trot, and Ari’elle urged her mare to keep up. 

They had been successful in closing the Rift under the lake. In a dwarven ruins! She had actually traveled inside actual dwarven ruins! She couldn’t wait to tell Cullen that. Had he ever gone into ruins like that? The shapes of their architecture and how sturdy things were even after all those years, it was truly awesome to her. 

Varric had seemed to have no real interest or knowledge of his ancestors’ history. When she was back at Skyhold she would have to ask one of the other dwarves all about it. Just, not Dagna. As much as Ari’elle enjoyed her cheerfulness and enthusiasm, Dagna had asked too many probing questions about her Anchor. Ari’elle had tried to avoid her as much as possible. If anyone were to find out her secret, she feared it would be her. 

Inside her glove, Ari’elle flexed her hand, trying to feel the Anchor. When she wasn’t using it, Ari’elle could never tell that it was there. It didn’t hurt or react to anything. But she was worried. Maybe. Perhaps she was just imagining things, Ari’elle told herself, nibbling her lip. She knew that whenever she closed Rifts, it sent pain up her arm; she had experienced that from the first. However, for the upward of 15 times she had closed rifts on this trip, it almost seemed like it was getting more painful. And that each time it took just a tiny bit longer for the Rifts to close. Ari’elle huffed out a breath and shook her head. No, it was all just in her head. Just her thinking that each most recent time felt the worst. 

She shivered at the little icy prickles that skated up and down her spine, and said that it was just the cold, her fear of the undead. Pushing aside her thoughts, she focused on the corpses. Perhaps now that the Rift in the lake was closed, perhaps they would stop spawning. That is where the shambling creatures had come from, so logically, now they would stop. She hoped.

They passed under the covered archway of the keep, and Ari’elle sighed mightily. In no time, she was off her horse, leading it to the stable area and removing her gear. She spent some time drying her mare, wondering over how the Hinterlands could be so warm and bright, while just a little ways to the north, Crestwood could be so rainy and cold. She had actually gotten freckles in their journey during the peak of the summer months, and her hair had gained more of the red streaks, lightening the dark brown. Here though, Ari’elle could not easily remember the sun and heat. Did the people of Crestwood just live under constant clouds? 

Inside her jacket, the letter flexed with her movements, a steady reminder of Cullen. Her friends seemed just as disinclined to talk as she did, hurrying their tasks and lost in thought. Usually there was an air of excitement after closing a Rift; yesterday and today they had been subdued though. They parted ways with little murmurs, and Ari’elle slipped up the stairs, looking for an empty room with a fire.

With luck, she found one relatively quickly, and she hurriedly ditched her jacket and changed her clothes, grateful for the thick garments and the heat from the fire. She held out her hands to the flames, letting warmth bring feeling back into her fingertips. Once she was no longer shivering, she picked up her letter.

She carefully broke the seal, opening up the pages to reveal Cullen’s familiar handwriting. Just looking at his bold strong letters made warmth build in her, warming her as much as the fire did. His writing was easiest for her to read; Josephine’s was so loopy and all the letters connected together, it usually gave her a headache when she tried to decipher the words. Varric usually read those aloud to her. Leliana rarely wrote her notes, but they were usually thin and slanted, and took her a little while to work out. Ari’elle still felt pride, though, that she had progressed as much as she had. While she could definitely read much better than she could write, she felt like she was learning quickly.

_Dear Ari’elle,_

_Crestwood is usually a dreary place, but not typically in the middle of summer. It is strange that it is as overcast as you describe. I hope the weather will clear up soon, for you are likely to be spending a few more weeks there. Since your, rather amazing, diplomatic resolution to the mage conflict in Redcliffe, some swift developments have occurred. The first is that we now have a number of mages moving into Skyhold. I have turned one of the towers into living and research quarters for them, and we are now working on building training exercises for them. Vivienne has been most helpful, and I must say I had not realized how underutilized mages were in our army. Your decision has helped strengthen our capabilities considerably. Thank you for handling the situation to the best of outcomes._

_The second is one is even more remarkable. It seems that you made an impression on Queen Anora, and she is most intrigued by the Inquisition now. Due to your influences, she has extended an invitation for the Inquisition to travel to Denerim and be the quests of honor at one of her balls. The move is a political one; I am sure, one due almost entirely to you. Your ability to close the Rifts has been marked with great interest, and your peaceful means of removing the mages from Redcliffe has shown Thedas that the Inquisition is not just a ragtag group of soldiers, but that we are an organized force whose goals are to bring peace, not to take power._

_The ball is to take place in a few weeks, and so we have decided that you should stay in Crestwood for the time being. A large group of us will be traveling to Denerim, and we will gather you and your group as we travel that way. For the time being, keep closing Rifts around Crestwood. If you and your group decide you have the time, there are also reports of Rifts out on the Storm Coast. I know you will keep doing all you can to help those you find, so please make sure you have the time before you travel to an area you haven’t helped people in before. Your abilities are sure to be needed in those areas, but you are also needed with us._

_As always, stay safe. Don’t push yourself too hard. Leliana and Josephine are working on gathering together all the items you will need for the trip to Denerim and for the ball, so don’t worry about that. I hope that you are well, and that you are still enjoying your adventures. Have you found anymore treasures? Somehow, don’t ask me how, Sera was able to stick a whole bee hive inside one of my training dummies. Again, don’t ask me how; it seems like an impossible feat. But she did it somehow. Maybe you can get the answer from her. When asked if she would like to come to the ball, she made a very disparaging comment and laughed as she ran away. I am afraid you will have to wait till you return to Skyhold to see your friend. Although she won’t say so, I believe that she misses you. As do we all._

_Take care,  
Cullen_

Ari’elle sat back, a confusing swirl of emotions churning through her. She was pleased with how easily she had understood most of the letter, although she would have to ask about some of the words. Thrilled that Cullen had written to her again. But had she really done all that Cullen had said she did? She had helped the Inquisition that much? And Queen Anora inviting her to a ball? She had heard some of what a ball consisted of, and her stomach flutter with nervousness. Shemlan traditions she knew nothing about, dancing and gossiping… 

Dorian! Ari’elle latched onto the idea with desperation. Surely Dorian would be able to help her! And when Cullen and his group met up with them, Josephine too. Josephine’s position as a political consultant would make her a necessity on the trip.

Licking her lips, Ari’elle read through it again, slower this time. A weight of disappointment settled in her chest. She admitted that she hopped this letter would be calling for them to return to Skyhold. It had been a month already, and now she had some more weeks before she would see him again. And he never spoke of himself. Ari’elle frowned, wishing he would talk more about how he was doing, how his days were filled. Were his nightmares any better? Was he getting enough sleep?

Her lips parted again as she came to the end. _As do we all._ He missed her? Ari’elle tried not to read more into the words, but she couldn’t help herself from imagining things. There was no way he missed her as much as she missed him. She closed her eyes tight and forced herself to not clench her fists so she wouldn’t wrinkle the precious paper. Just a little while longer. She would see him soon enough. 

She carefully folded the letter up and tucked it with her other letters, all carefully tied and placed in the waterproof pouch Cole had given her. A few seeds were stored in there, but most of the space was filled with her new written treasures. 

Ari’elle stood and made for the door. She needed to speak to her friends, and she needed to find some paper to write Cullen back on.


	29. Chapter 29

It was slow going, traveling with a party of their large size, but Cullen and all his entourage finally reached Caer Bronach three weeks later. As he rode up to the keep, he had a hard time keeping himself from shifting anxiously in his saddle. He admitted to equal parts excitement and trepidation. He would be glad to see Ari’elle, and he missed her joyful personality. But he was uncertain whether he wanted the desire to still be there or if he wanted it gone.

The sharp sound of the horse’s hoofs echoed through the courtyard as he and a small group entered the keep. Cries of “Inquisitor!” rang down from all around him, cheers and smiles greeting him with warmth. Cullen nodded and waved, dismounting and shaking hands. Through it all, he looked for the mobcap of wild brown curls, but he did not see her. In fact, he did not see any of her companions, Iron Bull, Dorian or Varric.

“Inquisitor!” Cullen turned and looked down into the freckled face of Scout Harding. “It is good to see you again Commander,” she saluted smartly, smiling widely. “Shall we make accommodations?” 

Cullen returned her greeting then shook his head with a rueful smile, “Unfortunately no. We number far too many to stay for any length here. And we still have a long ways to go before we reach Denerim. I have just come to retrieve Ar- our Rift team.” Cullen corrected himself smoothly and allowed the frown he had kept hidden to show, scanning the crowd once more. “I don’t see them, however. They are not gone, are they?” Cullen had written to Ari’elle; she knew that they would be here within this time period.

“Just got back from the Storm Coast, we have,” the pretty dwarf crossed her arms over her chest, rocking back on her heels. “Got a few closed out there, but we are all sure there are more lurking around. Too lightly populated, not enough information.” She shook her head. “Wore themselves out looking for them all, then riding back here posthaste. Then, once we got back this morning, we were told some of the locals found another Rift, hidden back through caves. Not surprising it hadn’t been noticed it before, the area is besieged by wyverns. Ari’elle insisted they close it while they still had the opportunity, so they rode out again right away.”

Cullen felt his stomach lurch. They had just returned and where now going to go fight demons pouring from rifts, plus the wyverns already there? “How long ago, and which way?”

Scout Harding wrinkled her nose and thought, “Towards the west. And they left about five hours ago?” Real concern made her turn in the direction they rode, as if to peer through the walls. She spoke slowly and low, as if she didn’t want to say her words. “They should have been back by now. It isn’t that far of a ride.”

Cullen immediately turned and mounted Imperial, the horse sensing his tension and prancing in place. “Harding,” he ordered, “You will take me and a small contingent to the location. We have to make sure they are well.” She nodded as she fled towards the stables, already shouting for her things.

Cassandra rode up to his side, looking at him inquiringly, but already ready to move. She truly was a warrior, through and through. “Ari’elle, Bull, Varric and Dorian left some time ago to close a Rift, and they have not returned. We go to make sure they are safe.”

“The Iron Bull wouldn’t let anything happen to her,” Cassandra comforted in her gruff way. Cullen felt a start of surprise, shocked that she knew of his interest. But she continued, “He would know how valuable to the Inquisition, indeed to Thedas, Ari’elle is. This is most likely just a futile exercise. However, we cannot take any chances.” 

Cullen nodded in agreement, relief a small comfort. Cassandra didn’t know of their dalliances, his preference, only thought of Ari’elle as her value to the Inquisition. Unaccountably, a boil of anger threatened to make him snap at the Seeker. Cullen pushed it down hurriedly.

In minutes they were away, riding quickly over the countryside, towards the rocky hills at the edge of the area. Very few words were spoken, but there was an air of urgency. Although they did not know what they would find, everyone knew what they would lose if Ari’elle fell. After far too long of a time, Scout Harding directed them off the main path, up a steep hillside. 

For some time they traveled at a fast walk, unable to go at the speed Cullen would have wished due to the overgrown wilderness they were moving through. Every now and then Cullen could spot passage of others in the overgrowth, but Scout Harding was steadfast, reading their path much more skillfully than he could. Finally, a clearing opened up, and there stood four horses, all contentedly munching on the grass at their feet. 

“There,” the scout pointed, and Cullen followed her directions to a cave entrance set within the hill side. Cullen thought he could hear echoes of noise coming from inside, but he could not be certain. 

With sharp, quiet orders, Cullen arranged a small party to follow him inside. Drawing his sword and grasping the leather straps of his shield, he carefully entered the cave. It was darker inside, but not too deep; already he could see light from an opening somewhere up ahead. As they quietly made their way through, he saw several small wyverns, bodies showing signs of arrows, magic and steel. They had made it through.

The ringing of fighting echoed into the cavern as they approached the end, prepared to jump into the fray if they needed to. Cullen took a deep breath to calm the pounding of his heart, worry tickling at his concentration, and stepped into the clearing. 

Bull roared as he charged after a despair demon as if flitted away. Dorian blasted streams of magic towards its back, and the demon shrieked as they hit, its body upending and slowly disintegrating, flecks leading back to the crystal-like structure of the Rift. 

“Now Red!” Varric shouted, and Cullen pivoted to watch as Ari’elle stepped forward and raised her arm to the Rift. Cullen snapped his arm up, holding Cassandra and the other soldiers back from interfering. The ritual that Cullen had seen briefly before replayed before him. Ari’elle’s hand seemed to connect to the Rift, a stream of magic that she grabbed onto and after a long moment, jerked back. This time, though, he noticed more. Her face was screwed down into a mixture of pain and concentration, her teeth clenched and her lips moving in repetitive words he could not hear. When the Rift was ripped closed, Ari’elle clasped her wrist with her good hand, staring down at the now invisible anchor, flexing her fingers. Pain made her press her lips together, pinching her features. 

“Ari,” Cullen called out, quickly moving towards her. She gasped and spun, her eyes wide with shock. She snatched her hands behind her back, a mixture of guilt and astonishment easily read on her expressive face. 

“Cullen,” she breathed, blinking up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you hurt?” He barked, ignoring her question. She shook her head mutely, her hair flying around her shoulders. With a clinical eye, he ran his gaze over her body, pulling her hand behind her back and inspecting it. No damage that he could see. Ari’elle was tanner, the sun bringing out a smattering of freckles along her cheeks and nose. Her adventures had leaned her form a bit; she was no longer as soft and curvy as she had been. She hadn’t changed much though, just added muscle definition in her body. He caught her warm eyes, the tentative smile spreading over her full lips. A flash of hunger burned through him. He still found her attractive then; the desire for her had not disappeared. He was not upset by that fact.

His fingers ached to grab her and pull her into his chest, but he swiftly culled that thought. He nodded stiffly, turning to look at the other three. No one appeared injured, but there was a decided air of tired relief. He saw bodies of more wyverns, evidence of hard fighting between the foursome and the two different factions of enemies. 

Anger started to build as he took note. Ari’elle and Varric were practically out of arrows, many showing signs of distinct wear, used in several fights. Potion bottles littered the ground, far too many. Dorian had little lyrium ones around where he leaned heavily on his staff. Iron Bull was covered in far too many cuts, none dangerous, but completely unnecessary if they had not dove recklessly into battle. 

Cullen spun back to her and snapped down at the fragile elf, “What in Andraste’s name were you doing? This was an excessive and risky call, and you had no business bringing everyone out here.” A different sort of heat was rolling through him, making him throw all caution to the wind. “You put everyone in danger.”

Ari’elle’s own shock was quickly replaced with her own anger, and she glared up at him mutinously. She opened her mouth to snap back at him, when Iron Bull bellowed across the field, “Boss!” 

They both jerked their heads to look at him, Cullen clenching his jaw in frustrated irritation. The qunari was standing across the bloody clearing, his expression resolute. Cullen sucked in a breath and marched away from Ari’elle, his fury keeping his spine rigid. “What, Bull?” He growled out from between his teeth. 

Bull looked down at him with his green eye, steady and calm. “Now isn’t the time to rail at her. She is exhausted.” Cullen resisted the urge to look back at her, keeping himself still. “Give her some time to rest, then you can yell at her all you want.” Bull peered over Cullen’s shoulder, contemplating the elf. “She isn’t used to this type of life, and constantly fighting and traveling has been hard on her. Not to mention the burden of closing the Rifts.” Bull’s features hardened. “She will likely fall asleep on the way back. Someone should carry her. I would do it again, but-“

The red heat in Cullen’s chest rose to his head. Again? Bull had carried her before? An unpleasant image of Ari’elle lying in Bull’s arms, her gazing up at him adoringly hammered at him hard, boiling the blood in his veins. “Your horse can barely carry you,” Cullen ground out. “She will ride with me.” With that Cullen turned and strode for the exit, everyone scurrying to follow. Cullen missed entirely the dark amusement lurking in Bull’s sharp eye.

Cullen heard everyone following him, voices subdued. A small voice at the back of his mind told him that this was the first time many of them had seen him truly angry. And well they should, he shoved back at the thought. Someone being reckless deserved to see his anger! He waited, his arms crossed over his chest, till Ari’elle slowly trudged from the caverns. “Wait here,” he growled, then strode to Imperial, mounting the horse swiftly.

Contrary woman that she was, Ari’elle light up brilliantly when she saw his horse, and the beast returned her affection, nuzzling her hands and bumping his head against her shoulder. Cullen gritted his teeth at the display, swiftly lowering his hand, “Up, Ari’elle.” 

She looked in confusion at his hand, then to her horse, whose reins Cassandra now had ahold of to lead the animal back. “I’m to ride with you?” 

“Yes,” he gritted out, “Now come on. We are wasting even more time.” 

Ari’elle pursed her lips, but stuck her hand in his. Cullen pulled her up, and she gasped when he placed her in front of him, turned sideways with both legs over one side, instead of behind as she had ridden with him previously. Her wide eyes flew up to his face, but whatever she read there made her snap her lips together, her protest dying. Good, Cullen noted darkly, placing his arms around her body to gather the reins. With a sharp nod to the startled Scout Harding, they started off.

Ari’elle sat stiffly in his lap, staring out unwaveringly, her profile made of stone except the blinking of her lashes. Her lips were pursed, her expression mutinous. But Cullen detected the signs of exhaustion he hadn’t noted before. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, pale brackets around her mouth. Although she was tanner, there was a pallor beneath her skin. She was trembling faintly, and not from the cold, for the weather was surprisingly dry and mild after all her written complaints. There were deep lines between her eyebrows, and she blinked frequently, as if she were trying to keep herself awake. 

“You should just sleep,” Cullen finally broke the silence. “You won’t fall.” 

Ari’elle licked her lips, her head jerking in sharp motions. “I’m not tired.” 

Cullen rolled his eyes, “Fine. Have it your way.” He receded grumpily into his anger. She was only going to hurt herself at this point, being so stubborn. Maker’s breath, save him from foolish women.

Their ride was considerably slower, no need to rush at the speed they had left with. The easy and rhythmic movement of Imperial slowly ate at Ari’elle’s determination, and before she knew it, her head was bobbing, her body sagging into him. Periodically she would wake up and glare ahead of herself, angry that she had succumbed, her lips twisting attractively. But within twenty minutes of their start, she fully slumped into him. Her head rested on the fur of his rob, tucked against his neck. She sighed mightily, then her arm slipped around his waist, and she settled into him trustingly. 

Cullen took a deep, steadying breath. Now that she wasn’t so rigid, so determined to keep away from him, he felt her far more than he had intended to. Her gentle breaths on his neck, the press of her ass against his thigh, the desire provoking curve of her hip rubbing his cock with each step. He could smell the clean scent of her hair; see the press of her breasts with each sleeping breath she took. He hardened, the pleasure she brought him quickly turning to pain. Instead of turning his mind from his anger, the pain of having an erection while horseback riding just built into it.

They rode for far too long before arriving at Caer Bronach. With not so gently movements, Cullen shook Ari’elle by the shoulder, “Wake up. We are back.” 

Ari’elle yawned hugely, keeping her eyes shut and stirring slowly, “Cullen?” She asked sleepily, blinking up at with a gentle smile on her lips. With a rush, though, she came awake and gasped, drawing herself away from his chest. She unconsciously pressed against his cock, and Cullen stifled the groan, biting back his anger. 

She looked adorably confused for a moment, eyes darting around quickly before glancing at his face once again. She turned from him and bit her lip, jumbled emotions playing over her features. Cullen clicked Imperial into the courtyard, pulling to a stop. Ari’elle hastily squirmed out of the circle of his arms and dropped to the side, looking as if to flee. 

“Wait!” He growled, low and sharp enough that she froze. Cullen swung his leg over Imperials back and swung down, making sure his erection was covered. Tossing his reins to one of the soldiers, Cullen grabbed Ari’elle’s elbow and started to lead her towards the inner keep. “You and I are going to have a discussion.”

The thunder of his undertones set off her own anger, and she jerked her chin up, her eyes narrowing as her own irritation rose to match his. Quickly Cullen marched her towards the stairs, steering her up through the fortress, ignoring all the looks they were garnering. Ari’elle’s cheeks pinkened, but he did not care. She needed a lecture, and he would find a suitable place for it. 

Cullen remembered a book room towards the back of the keep, one encased with stone. It would do well to insulate a yelling match; the room would suite his purposes. He opened the heavy door, and saw that one of the scouts was bent over the table. He startled up, eyes wide at the thunderous look on Cullen’s face. “Out,” Cullen commanded, and the man jumped, racing and sliding out the door. Cullen slammed it shut behind him before he let go of Ari’elle’s elbow.

She stepped further into the room, placing distance between them, then turned and glared at him. “What is your problem?” She asked, anger and exasperation sharp in her tones.

“My problem?” Cullen advanced on her, the bubbling of his anger finally boiling over, “My problem is you! You put everyone in danger with your ill-conceived venture to close that Rift!”

“What?” She threw her hands up, “We were fine! We closed it, didn’t we?” 

“You were all exhausted, in no state to take on both wyverns and demons!” Cullen growled, pacing back and forth before the fireplace. The hungry side of him noticed greedily the fire’s reflection in the snapping of her eyes, the flicker of embers in the red of her hair, the glow of her cheeks. The image of her splayed out on her bed while he licked at her core flashed through him. She looked remarkably similar, except it was fury not desire fueling the pink in her cheeks. Defiantly, Cullen shoved aside those thoughts, focusing on the stupidity of her actions. “You just got back from the Storm Coast, today, and forced all the others to follow your foolishness!”

“I didn’t force them to do anything! We all agreed on it! We knew we could close it before we needed to leave, so we did!”

“You were in no state! It was pure luck that none of you were injured grievously! How many health bottles did you use? Maker’s breath, did you even see Bull? He was covered in wounds! And you were so tired you were shaking, you practically passed out!” Cullen clenched his hands at his side, that hazy red obscuring his vision. “Is that why Bull had to carry you before? Because you stupidly pushed yourself past your breaking point?”

“What?” Ari’elle shook her head, confusion on her face. “Oh,” she cried suddenly, then rolled her eyes. “No! I was unconscious. Bull was just protecting me that time.”

Ice slipped down his back, but it did nothing to diffuse his anger, “Unconscious? How?” He barked. 

Ari’elle waved a negligent hand through the air. “Just a Templar’s shield. He knocked me out.”

“What were you doing fighting Templars?! You are supposed to be closing Rifts!”

“Oh,” Ari’elle growled through her teeth, planting her hands on her hips. “I was doing my job! I was solving the mage and Templar problem; the one that you praised me for just a little while ago!” Ari’elle strode towards him, poking a finger into his chest with each pronouncement. “I was saving people, helping them! I was closing Rifts, and as I seem to be the only one able to do it, I don’t care how hard I have to push myself! I have to close them!”

Cullen grabbed her wrist, holding it over her head, “Not at the cost of your life! Like you said, you are the only one! Where would we be without you, the only one able to close them? We would be back right to where we were before! You are too impulsive!” Cullen growled down at her. “We need you!”

The next thing he knew, Cullen’s hands were fisted in her hair, Ari’elle crushed against his chest. He licked into her mouth, and she met him, twining around him. Their teeth knocked together, as her arms, somehow already around his shoulders, tightened further, pressing up against his armor. Cullen’s arousal, never fully dissipated, shot to full attention. His anger, his frustration, and yes he finally allowed himself to acknowledge, his worry over her safety, made him kiss her deeper and longer. He took from her greedily, hurriedly, and she took from him just as urgently.

Ari’elle moaned, her hips tilting to rub against him, hands sunk in his hair, scraping at his neck, holding onto his shoulders. Cullen tugged her jacket off, jerking her shirt from the waistband of her pants, gripping the warm, smooth flesh of her back. With a growl, he spun her into one of the bookshelves, crowding into her, sucking hard on her tongue.

He rocked his cock against her, hearing her gasps as they moved together. Ari’elle raised one of her legs, and Cullen grasped her thigh, bringing it up high on his hip and rolling against her. She moaned and dropped her head back, a small dusty cloud exploding from the books she had hit. Neither one noticed; Cullen’s lips tracing the line of her jaw, down the satiny skin of her throat. 

The boiling heat of anger that had been in his stomach changed and spread, slipping through his veins, driving all rational thought from his mind. Ari’elle was unhurt, she was alive. Cullen pressed his lips to the thumping pulse in her neck, rolling his cock against her clit, hearing her pant out in desire. “Cullen, more!” 

A sudden vision of Ari’elle unconscious, her body arched as it was now, being held in Iron Bull’s giant hands slashed through his concentration. He growled, low in his throat, an animalistic urge surging into action. Cullen scrapped his teeth across her collar bone, and he planted an open mouth kiss on her pulse, and sucked hard. Ari’elle jumped, but she just rolled her hips, adding to the friction and heat, driving their desire. He marked her, deliberately, her sawing breaths ringing in his ears.

Cullen reared back, staring down at his handwork. A possessive flush shot through him as he saw the purple and red circle low on her neck, her swollen pink lips and heavy eyes. If Bull ever found her in that position again, he would see the mark, would see that she wasn’t for him. Satisfaction burned, and Cullen ducked back down, one hand cupping her ass and pulling her into him tighter while the other slipped beneath her shirt, fingers grasping her perfect breast. He suckled her through the linen of her shirt, blowing on the damp spot to watch the peaks harden even more. He grinned savagely at her reaction to him, and he set in once more, fondling the one nipple while his lips were occupied with the other. 

He thrust up into her, wishing desperately that he was actually inside her. His cock twitched at the idea of being sheathed in her heat. He knew how she would clench around him, how wet she would be. She would love it, he knew, his little temptress. He groaned when he realized she would let him, right now, if he tried. He could pound into her, her legs around his waist, back against dusty old books. Pressure built as they rocked together, Ari’elle’s cries muffled slightly as she bit her own lip. He pinched one nipple, then the other, rolling them between his fingers before he smoothed them with the rough pad of his thumb. Each time he switched peaks, he would lavish the nipple with his tongue. He tugged with his teeth, rougher than he intended to be, but Ari’elle just shivered, her breath hitching and starting up raggedly again. 

“Cullen,” She moaned, her hands sinking as best as she could along his back, her little nails finding purchase in the muscles there. He felt the pleasurable pressure rising in him, his cock aching. He wanted to be in her, but he wouldn’t. Not here, not now. When he was finally inside her, it would be in a bed with hours before them. Not rushed, fully clothed, up against a bookshelf. He didn’t even notice that he told himself when, not if. 

Cullen pulled back from her breasts, resting his forehead against her own as he gritted his teeth. He dropped both hands down to her ass, urging her frantic movements into a fast rocking motion. “Ari,” he croaked out, staring down into her dark eyes, hazy with pleasure. “Come for me.” 

Cullen bucked up into her, hitting her in the exact right spot, and Ari’elle’s eyes fluttered, arching in pleasure, and he repeated it one more time. This time, she splintered apart, coming as he chased his own orgasm, capturing her cries with his lips and seeking tongue, avidly watching her fall apart. The sparks twisting through him raced towards his sac, and with frantic thrusts of his cock, Cullen groaned into her, coming, his hips stuttering as white hot ecstasy rolled in waves through him. 

Cullen slowly came down from the heights, watching Ari’elle closely as she did the same. They were both trembling, their swift change from anger to passion one that took its toll on them both. But Cullen couldn’t drudge up much remembered ire; Ari’elle riding him so perfectly had taken a large chuck of his fury, twisted and destroyed it. A smile tugged at his lips, and Ari’elle languidly stretched, the tattoo on her lip accentuating the lush curve of her answering smile. Slowly, Cullen lowered her, realizing until that moment that he had been holding her up, hands still cupped around her tantalizing ass. 

“Well,” he finally spoke, his voice hoarse, “That was not my intention when I pulled you in here.” 

“No,” She giggled, rising up on tip-toes to brush a kiss across his lips, sighing contentedly. “You were furious. I rather like what happened more.” The smile playing over her lips faded, and she looked worried for a moment before determination chased it away. “I won’t apologize for what I did, Cullen. I was doing my job, closing Rifts and helping those who need it.” Her hands still rested on the fur of his collar, but they were clenched into little fists, her opinion clearly one she felt strongly about. 

He sighed heavily, dropping his head back and closing his eyes, although he wrapped an arm around her, one hand smoothing her hair back from her face. “I know. Just… promise me you won’t do anything so dangerous again.” He looked down at her sparking eyes, and rushed to clarify. “Being exhausted and fighting is more likely to get you killed than anything else.” He traced the new freckles along her nose and over her cheeks with a gentle fingertip. “One Rift, especially when it is in the middle of nowhere, is nothing compared to your life.”

The defiant sparks died and she nodded slowly, Cullen taking a deep breath as she agreed. “Very well. I suppose it was rather impetuous of us. But I just wanted to make sure I had done enough!” She explained in a rush, her expressive face now filled with anxiety. “What if I didn’t truly make a difference all the months I was out here?”

Cullen laughed, genuine bafflement at her worry showing in his voice. “You got us invited to Denerim, Ari. Queen Anora herself was impressed with you.” He shook his head and tousled her wild curls, his chest tight as an unusual emotion filled him. “I don’t know anyone who could have achieved all you have in such short of time. Believe me Ari, you have made a difference.”

Ari’elle lit up, glowing with happiness. For a moment, Cullen felt dizzy with pride and that unknown sensation. He dropped his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly, slowly, enjoying the moment. She looked relaxed and happy, like her normal self, a fact that calmed him greatly. Her hair was a familiar tangle, lips pulled in an easy smile. Her wet shirt clinging wantonly to her nipples, and his mark on her neck was bold, proclaiming without words that she was not to be messed with. Pleased, Cullen ducked back down for a lingering kiss, wishing they had more time for themselves. 

After long moments, Cullen lifted his head and took a long, steady lungful. “We need to start back. It is a long way to Denerim still.” Cullen shifted, feeling the wetness of his pants and gave an exaggerated wince. “And I need to change.”

Ari’elle gurgled out a laugh, and he mock glared down at her. She pressed her lips together, trying to look properly chastised, but only succeeded in looking adorable and impish. Cullen chuckled and pressed his lips to her forehead, at the tip of her tattooed arrow. “Minx.”

Ari’elle laughed and skipped for the door, donning her jacket and making herself more presentable. It was high enough to cover his mark, which he supposed was a good thing. He knew there would be talk otherwise, but that primitive part of him wanted to plant his mark higher up, so that it was visible no matter what she wore. 

“You like it,” she tossed back over with a wink, glancing impudently at his cock, licking her lip. She scuttled out the door laughing, when she heard his low “Ari…”

Yes, Cullen certainly did.


	30. Chapter 30

Ari’elle swayed in the saddle, falling asleep again. She yawned largely, her jaw cracking with the strength behind it. Her nap against Cullen’s chest had done little to truly revive her. And while Cullen’s anger had sparked a rebellious energy within her, their activities and her release had sucked it all back out. 

A ghost of a smile twitched her lips before they were overwhelmed by another yawn. She blinked back the moisture that had beaded in her eyes and focused on the confident form riding a ways in front of her. The sun was dipping in the sky, saturating Crestwood with vivid colors. The gold in Cullen’s hair gleamed from the loving rays, the silver of his metal armor winking at her brightly. The red in his typical outfit seemed more crimson in this light; the black more distinguished. How handsome he looked, even from behind.

Ari’elle slumped down, burrowing herself deeper in her jacket. Reverently, she reached up and touched at her throat over her coat. Heat flared in her cheeks as she remembered his velvety lips against her throat, the suction he had created and how it had made her respond. She could still feel her pulse throbbing beneath her fingertips. How… unexpected. And arousing. She sighed, the warmth in her chest rolling through her. 

He had marked her; physically left something visible on her body. And she couldn’t help but feel that there was a special meaning to it. A heady giggle rose in her throat, her mind racing. Did that mean that there truly was something between them? They hadn’t gotten to really speak to each other yet, but it felt like there had been a change. Was that a declaration of his plan to continue their… whatever it was they were doing? Their courtship? 

The giggle escaped her, causing the ever stoic and beautiful Cassandra to turn and scrutinize her. Ari’elle’s cheeks flamed, sure that her thoughts would be visible to the woman. No emotion that Ari’elle could decipher crossed the strong features, but Cassandra’s eyes, which were very similar in color to her own, narrowed. Cassandra turned back away from her, and a relieved sigh slipped past Ari’elle’s lips. 

She needed to sleep; she was becoming remarkably fanciful, even for her. Ari’elle knew she was not thinking very clearly, and she could feel the bone deep weariness dragging at her. Though the hour was later in the day, there would probably still be some time before they would break for camp. 

Maybe, if she could stay awake, she and Cullen could slip away and talk, just like they used to. Ari’elle greedily admitted that she missed talking to him just as much as being with him. Before she had left Skyhold, the few times they had been alone together had been like explosions; lots of action, but very few words. Perhaps tonight they could change that. Ari’elle sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. Although, she definitely wouldn’t mind the explosions; their time in the library had been much too hurried.

Ari’elle yawned hugely again. If she could stay awake, she would attempt to speak with him. She had decided something in these months away. She needed to tell him the truth, at least the partial truth. She couldn’t tell him about how she had gained the Anchor, but she could explain the rest. Maybe he would like the rest.

Ari’elle’s eyes dropped closed as they continued, her mare happily following the others. Every time she started to lean one way or the other, she would partially rouse herself and adjust, then close her eyes again. It wasn’t truly napping, but she was glad of all the practice she had in sleeping up trees. It was proving to be a useful skill. 

Sometime later when the sun was creeping towards the horizon, their smaller group met up with the large contingent of Inquisition persons. Ari’elle blinked wearily, feeling her features pulling, her eyes never fully open. It should be a fascinating view: all the wagons filled with gear, more ornate carriages, how everyone wore the colors and insignia of the Inquisition. Normally she would be enthralled, but in her current state she couldn’t summon much enthusiasm, except at the idea of lying down. 

Cassandra spurred her mount forward and met up with Cullen, who was speaking with one of the soldiers. Ari’elle blinked heavily around, looking to her most recent traveling companions. Varric looked alert enough, Bianca strapped to his back, his body relaxed as he sat on the back of his pony. Dorian looked impeccable, as always, but she saw him stifling yawns delicately behind his hand. The Iron Bull slumped in his saddle, his arms crossed and his head down. Although his eyes were closed, she knew he wasn’t asleep. He was deceptive in that way; Ari’elle knew now just how sharp he truly was. 

Ari’elle rubbed at her eyes, breathing deeply. She could do this; just a few more hours, she chanted to herself. She rolled her head on her neck. Had she even been this exhausted when she had been with her clan? She couldn’t think back that far currently.

A voice rose above the general talk, authority in the tones. Cullen stood in his stirrups, announcing to his people. “Since the horses have had a reprieve, we will travel through the night in Fifth Formation, starting at dusk.” 

Salutes and acknowledged “Inquisitor,” sounded around her, but Ari’elle didn’t notice it. She felt her face crumple, tears coming to her eyes. She was supposed to ride all night? How was she going to last? Suddenly, all Ari’elle wanted to do was hide away from everyone, just curl up and cry or throw a little fit as if she were an infant again. 

“None of that now, Red,” Bull’s deep voice rumbled through the air, his big hands plucking her off her horse and setting her on the ground. Ari’elle’s eyes flew open in surprise, blinking rapidly up at the qunari. “You don’t have to ride more tonight,” he informed her as he steered her towards one of the carts. 

Relief filled her, and she sighed gratefully; but she also felt guilty, her mind not fully tracking what was happening around her. “But I can’t. Everyone needs to ride…”

“Fifth Formation,” he cut into her protests. “Some will rest while most continue, then rotate.” He smiled down at her, “Just like how we keep watch. Only moving.” 

“Oh,” Ari’elle offered in eloquent response, her protests dying an eager death. She would just wake when the rest in her shift did. She didn’t notice that no one else was currently making ready to rest, that she was the only one heading to the cart, too withdrawn into her own fatigue. 

They reached their destination, and Ari’elle saw that there were blankets and pallets arranged in small spaces. Not the most comfortable situation, but one that would certainly work, as long as those sleeping didn’t mind the cramped quarters or the constant movement of the cart. There were raised sides with canvas furled in neat rolls; ready to cover the back for protection from weather, if some should arise. 

“Sleep now, Red.” Iron Bull lifted her up and deposited her onto one of the pallets. “We will wake you when it is time.”

Ari’elle blinked heavily, thanks garbling past her lips. She looked up to see Cullen frowning slightly, but not the angry frown she had seen earlier in the day. He looked concerned about something. A part of her wanted to go ask him what it was; the dominant part of her was already pulling a blanket around her, her bare feet twining into the softness of material. She gave him an encouraging smile, then flopped down onto her side, curled into the blankets, and fell asleep.  


***

Ari’elle awoke naturally, the world coming back to her slowly. She could feel herself shaking, the occasional lurch one way or the other. She frowned for a moment, before memory smoothed away the wrinkles. Right, she was in a cart. The rumbling of the wheels drowned out most of the sound of horses and low talk of those awake around her, lulling her, calling her back to sleep. She was lying just as she had fallen, her sleep so deep she had apparently not moved at all. 

A slow thought bubbled in her waking mind. Someone should have woken her. She blinked open her eyes and gazed up at the sky. It was definitely bright out, the light that of morning. She must have slept straight through the night. 

Ari’elle pushed herself up from her cozy nest, looking around and yawning as she took stock. She was no longer the only one in the cart. Five others were huddled under their own blankets, faces relaxed in different stages of sleep. The taller of them were scrunched up, looking decidedly uncomfortable in the cramped confines, but all were resting. 

Though there were others who must be asleep elsewhere, the Inquisition party bore on. And Ari’elle peered around curiously, her fascination kindled now that she no longer felt like she would die.

There were quite a few soldiers riding with them; Cullen must have brought most of those stationed at Skyhold. And there were others who were not soldiers; Ari’elle recognized cooks, staff from the keep and from the stables. Leliana’s scouts were sprinkled throughout, and in one of the carriages Ari’elle saw most of Josephine’s aids. The road was narrow enough that the group stretched far before the cart and behind, and Ari’elle knew that her friends, although she couldn’t see any of them currently, must be somewhere in the crowd.

Ari’elle scrapped both her fingernails along her scalp, yawning and stretching as she woke. She could sleep longer, she knew, but she didn’t want to. She had a duty she was supposed to do. Making sure all her limbs were working correctly, Ari’elle stood and climbed over the barrier to the front seat, sliding into place next to the man driving the cart. He raised an eyebrow at her, unflinching. He just nodded and went back to work.

Ari’elle looked around for her horse, but she didn’t see the little mare. With a shrug, she slowly worked on easing the stiffness of her muscles. At some point in time they would stop, and she could reclaim her mount and join up with someone.

In less than an hour, there was a general call for a halt, and slowly the mass settled into place. Ari’elle, fully awake now and famished, hopped down from the cart, giving a little wave to her silent driver. He nodded stoically, nary a smile on his face. Then, as she walked away, the man turned and bellowed “Wake up! All rise! Your shift starts in twenty!”

Ari’elle jumped, wide eyed. There was a hurried rustling, the men and woman asleep jolting upright at the loud holler. The man had certainly never done that while she was sleeping. Although she was a heavy sleeper, she wasn’t that dead to the world when she was out! She assumed that there had been other shifts asleep while she had been; for some reason they had not been awoken like that.

A little confused, Ari’elle resumed her task, her stomach growling. She followed the road further forward, and shortly she came across a group of soldiers unloading things from a heaping cart while some of the cooks bustled around, preparing a meal. Eagerly, Ari’elle stepped forward, asking if she could help. 

“Bless you child, we have it well in hand. Lots of practice with it now.” One of the woman smiled at her, then looked around for a moment. “Here,” she said, handing Ari’elle an egg. “You’ve not eaten since some time yesterday, correct? We will have some stew ready in a minute.” Ari’elle grabbed it eagerly, starting to peel the shell off of the hard-boiled egg. One of the Ferelden treats she had become partial to since joining the Inquisition, she scarfed down the snack, keenly awaiting a more filling meal.

“Ari’elle!” The familiar lilting Antivan accent drew her head around, and Ari’elle found Josephine descending from a carriage. “How good to see you!”

“Josie!” She hurried forward, giving her friend a hug. As they squeezed each other affectionately, the jasmine perfume Josephine was partial to scented the air, adding another layer of exotic mystery that Ari’elle found so fascinating. “How have you been?”

“Busy, dear, busy,” She laughed as they headed to where bowls and utensils for the meal were being handed out. “Your exploits throughout Ferelden have provided me with much fodder to expand our influence.” Ari’elle smiled, although she kept an eagle eye on where salted meat and various chopped vegetables were being added to an already boiling pot, curtesy of a mage wielding some very useful fire magic.

“I’m glad I could help,” Ari’elle sighed, “I confess, I was worried we hadn’t done enough.”

“Oh no! You have done excellent work! Queen Anora wouldn’t have extended such an invitation if she were not interested.” Josephine’s gaze turned calculating, her gaze sweeping up and down Ari’elle. She was practically bouncing back and forth on each leg, her interest fixed on the food being prepared. Ari’elle’s hair was a tangled flame around her shoulders, her clothing wrinkled and stained. “Speaking of our invitation…”

Just then the call for food was sent out, and Ari’elle was gone, zipping in line before anyone else. Her face glowed in reverence as the laughing cook ladled the steaming stew into Ari’elle’s bowl, making sure Ari’elle also grabbed a piece of crusty bread for the broth.

Ari’elle slowly walked back to Josephine, sipping carefully of the steaming liquid and dunking her bread in, relishing each bite. She reached her previous spot, carefully taking a slurping bite, testing the temperature. It was perfect. With appreciation, she dug in.

A few satiating moments later, she noticed Josephine wasn’t speaking. With one more slurp, Ari’elle looked up. Josephine had a pinched expression on her features; a look Ari’elle didn’t know what to make of. “What?” She mumbled, sucking air through her teeth to cool down the meat.

“You will be riding with us, Ari’elle,” Josephine said in a slightly strangled tone. “There is much we must teach you before we get to Denerim.”

Ari’elle wrinkled her nose. That did not sound fun.

***

It wasn’t. For the rest of the day Ari’elle was trapped in the progressively smaller carriage, listening and demonstrating all sorts of polite etiquette. It was with singular relief when a halt was called at dusk, and Ari’elle fairly burst form the confines of her prison, sprinting out into the bustle of the night, discarding notions of noble ranks and how to greet them, which utensils to use at formal meals, what was okay to discuss and what was not. 

She slipped back down the line, losing herself in the crowd as best as possible. She had already suffered through one meal today of the ‘proper’ way to eat in court; she wasn’t going to repeat the incident if she could help it. 

Tonight tents were being brought out, and Ari’elle went in search of her own gear. She had been told were her things were earlier, so she tracked down her saddle bags, wandering until she found a likely little encampment. Dorian was setting up a fire pit, igniting the twigs with a little flare of magic. Not too far from his things, a half circle was being drawn by soldiers, a newly hunted hare and a couple pheasants being prepared for a shared meal. 

“Mind if I stash here?” Ari’elle walked up to Dorian, already knowing the answer. 

Dorian smiled and indicated a spot. “No one has claimed this spot yet. Haven’t seen you all day.” He dusted his hands off, standing with a groan. “Sleeping in a moving cart isn’t ideal. I can’t wait for a real bed.” 

Ari’elle started to pitch her tent, shrugging as she spread out the canvas. “I didn’t even notice,” she smiled, “And it was far preferable to sitting in a carriage being lectured at.”

Dorian laughed, “Oh yes, you have much to learn, my little Dalish friend. Just be glad that we are not going to Tevinter.” Dorian winced dramatically. 

“Don’t think Red would enjoy Tevinter,” Iron Bull rumbled as he walked up, his gear hefted over his shoulder. 

“Quite true.” Dorian frowned. Ari’elle knew little of Dorian’s homeland, but she knew that he had not been happy there. It was quite enough for her to steer clear of bringing it up around him as much as possible.

“How are your studies going?” Dorian turned to her, changing the subject as he shook out his sleeping blankets.

“Haaaa,” She sighed, flopping back on her things, staring up at the stars just now starting to peek through the darkness. “Don’t ask.”

There was a collective laugh from her friends, and her lips twitched in response, amused despite herself.

“Seems so unnecessary, doesn’t it?”

Ari’elle flailed upright, gasping slightly. Cullen stood at the edge of their circle of light, a laugh curling his lips, his delicious scar lifting in his amusement. “You are not the only one Josephine has been ‘reminding’.” He came further in, exhaling as he settled himself next to the fire. He leaned back on his hands and dropped his head back to look up at the stars. “I hate politics.”

“You’re in the wrong line of work then, Inquisitor,” Dorian teased, stressing his title. 

Ari’elle smiled, happy that he was here, and that he was relaxing. The four of them caught up on things, the firelight soon the only light flickering over their faces. Ari’elle had to remind herself to look away from him, to look at her friends or maybe off into the distance. The golden glow made him more approachable, their setting intimate and bantering. Although she felt just as tired as she had last night, Ari’elle didn’t want to break the easy comradery.

Cooks brought around food, distributing to the Inquisitor and his companions. The soldiers next to them shared some of their meat, the scent of wood smoke and fat sizzling in the fire reminded her of home, of back in the woods. She ate with her fingers, sucking the juices off her fingers and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. They all laughed as Varric regaled them, and of how Ari’elle had reacted to seeing a Sea. Of how she had wanted to swim in it, then found out just how cold and salty the waters were. 

“She tore off her jacket and jumped right in the water before we could say anything.” Ari’elle felt her cheeks heat, but she had a smile on her face. “A wave came and crashed over her, and I thought we were gonna have to send Bull in to save her,” Varric narrated. “But she sputtered to the surface with a shriek, hopping back out of the water shaking one of her legs. A piece of seaweed had curled around her leg, and she was sure it was something out to get her.”

Cullen laughed, his eyes snapping with the firelight. “Then she learned all about how sea-wet things just don’t dry. She was stubborn, insisting she didn’t need to change.” Varric shook his head. “Almost caught a cold before we convinced her to change. We dumped her in a stream, got most of the salt off, then made her put on new things,” he chuckled.

Ari’elle shrugged self-consciously. It was all true; her previous forays into water had not prepared her for drenching herself in the sea. She knew much better now. But the incident may have given her a little more of a pause when it came to water; one never knew what was below its surface.

Things were quieting down around them, people preparing for bed. Dorian yawned and stood, “Well, I’m exhausted. Time for my beauty sleep.” Ari’elle smiled to him and said goodnight, but she was paying scant attention. Across the fire from her, Cullen stood as well.

“I guess it is time for bed,” he rolled his shoulders. He looked at Varric and Iron Bull, then his eyes rested on her for a second. Ari’elle’s lips parted, but no words left her. 

“Night, Boss,” Bull stood, clapping a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. Then he turned to his own tent and disappeared inside.

Cullen cleared his throat and nodded once, before turning and departing the circle of light. Ari’elle hesitated for a moment, looking over to Varric. The dwarf was cradling Bianca, tending to some slight imperfection. She licked her lips once, then rushed to a stand and after Cullen.

She quietly raced for Cullen’s side, footsteps quiet and nimble. The night was dark, the moon barely a crescent in the sky, little light provided by infrequent and waning campfires. Cullen turned to her when she reached his side, an eyebrow raised. But she just smiled to him silently, clasping her hands behind her back and falling into step with him.

The passed a cluster of tents, returning the salute of the man on patrol there. Only when Ari’elle thought they would not be disturbing anyone, she spoke to him. “Did you ask for people not to waken me from my sleep last night and this morning?” 

Cullen pressed his lips together for a moment, staring straight ahead. He hesitated before he nodded. “Yes.” Her more acute eyesight picked up the shift of his shoulders, the tensing of his hands. He was uncomfortable with her question, for some reason. He hesitated once more before explaining, the lower timbre of his voice sending a shiver down her back. “You were in need of the rest more than anyone else. We have been setting a slow pace and…” Cullen licked his lips, “You are important.”

Oh. A warm glow spread through her, and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She bit her lip, blinking at how happy his words had made her. They continued in easy silence for a little ways, before Ari’elle looked around. They were between groups, no patrols in this little section. No one to see. 

She rested a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Cullen turned and looked down at her from his height, a question in his dark eyes. She clasped his leather clad hand between her own, squeezing his fingers gently. Ari’elle stepped into him, rose up onto her toes, and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. Earnest, fluttering, conveying everything she wanted to say but wouldn’t with the brush of her lips along the scruff of his golden stubble. 

After a moment she pulled away and beamed up at him, blinking at his bemused expression. “Thank you, Cullen.” Her lips tingled, and she wished she could kiss him more, on the lips, along his scar, on his bare chest. The possibility of being seen was too high, she knew, so she settled for that one chaste kiss. “Thank you for thinking about me.” 

She fancied that his eyes were sparking just as when they had been reflecting the firelight. For a moment she let herself think that he too was wishing for more. His expression was tender but focused, his amber eyes flickering all over her face. She let out a short breath and stepped back, creating space between them again. “Goodnight Cullen,” she whispered. 

“Goodnight Ari,” he rumbled back. She licked her lips and turned, heading back towards her tent. She didn’t hear him move, so she looked back after a moment, and there he stood, still watching her. That warm, dizzy feeling enveloped her once more and she let her happiness spread, a dazzling smile on her face and an enthusiastic wave just for him. 

He raised his hand and gave her a bashful little wiggle of his hand, looking adorable and awkward. She smiled impishly and spun away from him quickly. Any more of those looks, and she couldn’t be faulted for peppering him with kisses next time they were alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay everyone!
> 
> I reached 400 followers on Tumblr, so I decided to do a giveaway! Check it out! [Giveaway!](http://cometeclipsewriting.tumblr.com/post/133533995066/400-follower-giveaway)
> 
> P.S. Some of you were expecting sexy times... sorry for that! It didn't quite fit in this chapter. But the next... ;) 
> 
> <3


	31. Chapter 31

“Ari’elle,” Cullen spoke from beyond the circle of soldiers, his tone polite but formal. “You wished to discuss something with me?” 

Ari’elle nodded and stood, sharing in the same formality. “Yes I do. Is now a good time?”

“It is,” he agreed, half turning and indicating a path away from the scattering of tents. Ari’elle licked her lips and stood. She felt a little awkward; both by the formalness she and Cullen were treating each other and by the fact that others were watching. She supposed that’s why they were behaving so cordially, but it still felt a bit ridiculous.

She had started it; earlier this morning she had asked him for a private meeting, one with just the two of them. It had been a very correct request, Josephine’s lectures helping to shape her attitude. Others had been around to hear it, and no one had batted an eye. Well, Cullen had; she had seen the amusement gleaming in the amber depths. She had almost stuck her tongue out at him; only the knowledge that it would have ruined her painstaking attempts to be proper had stopped her. 

As they stepped silently away from talking groups, Ari’elle felt her lips twitch. “This is a bit different than our last trip together.” She tossed him an impish grin. “So much more… strict.” 

Cullen’s whole demeanor relaxed, his shoulders loosening, back relaxing as they strolled into the woods. There was almost no light from the sky; even her heightened eyesight had some trouble detecting his expression. But she could feel the tension leaving him, heard his little laugh, his easier breathing. The peaceful tone as he spoke. “Very true. All this,” he waved a hand back at their large traveling band, “seems so excessive. But it is what is expected of us.” Cullen grimaced, and scrubbed a hand along his cheek. “Sometimes being the inquisitor…” he stopped himself. 

Ari’elle laid a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “I know,” She assured him softly. She knew he wouldn’t finish his sentence. From all that she had learned of him, Cullen was a leader of men. He commanded loyalty and determination from those he inspired. But he didn’t want to be the Inquisitor, didn’t like all the paperwork or that he had to play to the nobility’s fancy to get the backing for the things they needed to do. Yet he wouldn’t complain. 

Ari’elle pressed her lips together, stopping herself from saying anything more. She wished… she wished that he would tell her everything. Even the things he thought the Inquisitor shouldn’t say. But, at least he relaxed when he was with her. She hoped that meant that she was at least a little important to him.

They sank into comfortable silence, easy steps through the forest, their path angling away from the group. Their paces synched with each other’s, Cullen’s longer legs matching to her shorter strides. A smile played over Ari’elle’s lips as she realized their breathing even matched in their silent stroll. There was an unspoken desire for the peace of the night, and neither one of them felt the need to break it. 

They kept up their mutual hiatus on words as they passed a patrol, nodding to the man’s salute. The soldier passed them heading in the opposite direction, and soon it was just the two of them in the night. Ari’elle could very faintly hear talking, could pick up the flicker of firelight through the trees, but they were alone.

“I hope you haven’t brought me out here to kidnap me,” Cullen gently teased. “You have me defenseless.” 

Ari’elle chuckled, but little fluttering knots started in her stomach. It was time. “Actually…” she licked her lips and gathered her courage. “I wanted to confess something.”

Cullen stopped and looked down at her, amusement vying with his feigned shock. “So you have led me here on purpose!” He looked around suspiciously, then leaned into her and dropped his voice to that husky octave. “Trying to have your way with me?”

His breath brushed over the point of her ear, his words and the erotic intent turning her knees to jelly; her mind immediately jumping to some of the things they had done together. For a moment her intent blanked of anything but the thought of putting her mouth on him. Her lips parted as she tilted her head back, leaning into him. A dark, sensual chuckle rolled over her, his eyes riveted on the _vallaslin_ of her lip. He dropped his head down, and Ari’elle almost met him. But she needed to tell him. With a sharp shake of her head, Ari’elle snapped herself part way out of his spell. She slapped her palms over his mouth, “W-wait!” 

Cullen froze, but she could still feel his smirk, see how undeterred he was. He locked eyes with her, then swept his tongue out, traced a path along the sensitive crease of her fingers. Ari’elle gasped, dropping her hands quickly and stepping back. “Cullen! As much as I want to do that-“ Cullen’s lids dropped, and he gave her that hungry look again, starting to lean back down. Ari’elle rushed to finish “I really do have something I want to tell you.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but heaved an exaggerated sigh and straightened. “Oh very well.” He settled back against a tree and crossed his arms over his chest. 

Ari’elle licked her lips, feeling the knots squirm in her stomach again. “Do you… do you remember falling into the river?” 

“Of course,” Cullen frowned, “It was-“

“I saved you,” Ari’elle blurted over him, afraid her courage would fail her. “Pulled you from the river,” she finished lamely, carefully watching his stunned expression.

Cullen’s mouth remained open for a moment before he slowly closed it. He blinked several times, taking a long while to process what she had just revealed. She started to nibble on her lip, shift her weight back and forth as she waited; the fluttering’s now full blown storms racking her nerves. 

Finally, he croaked out a word. “How?”

Relieved that he had finally said something, Ari’elle rushed into her explanation. “I was on the other side of the river. I had heard fighting, so I came to investigate. I saw you all fighting the demons. And when you were knocked over the side…” _I couldn’t bear the thought of someone so brave drowning when I could have done something._ “Well, I jumped in after you.”

Ari’elle peered up at him closely, the darkness making it hard to distinguish what emotions he felt. He stood staring over her shoulder, thinking over her words. He spoke quietly, “It must have been…” He trailed off, his eyebrows down.

“It was terrible,” Ari’elle confessed, shuddering at the memory. “I was just trying to keep both our heads above water as much as possible. And when there was finally a spot to get us on shore, it was almost impossible to drag you out of the river.” Ari’elle licked her lips and sighed. “I’m not sure how I was able to. I did everything I could think of. Once I thought you were out of danger, I promptly fell asleep.”

“Why did you not say something before?” Genuine puzzlement clouded his voice, and Ari’elle hesitated.

“I was afraid,” She said slowly, “Afraid you wouldn’t believe me. Would think that I wanted something from you.” She dropped her head. “I just…”

Cullen touched the tips of his fingers to her chin, tilting her face upward to him. His eyes roved over her face, looking for something, but she didn’t know what. “Why did you not stay? Why disappear?” 

Ari’elle blinked. “Why would I stay? While I was certain you would not hurt me, I knew nothing of your friends. All my life, I had heard that humans are dangerous to elves and to the Dalish most especially. I couldn’t risk it.” She looked away. “It was… difficult to leave you there. But you weren’t in danger any longer.”

A heavy frown pulled Cullen’s eyebrows down, his jaw clenched. “Humans are wont to treat others very badly, don’t we?” There was a glint that Ari’elle had never seen in his eyes, one that spoke of an inward bitterness, something Cullen hated about himself.

“Cullen,” she stepped into him, sliding her hands along his cheeks, taking his face in a firm grasp. “You don’t treat anyone badly, you are fair and honorable.” She gave him a gentle shake, “No matter what their background, race, or ability, you have treated every one of the Inquisition with equal justness.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. He gently covered her hands, and took a deep shuddering breath, pressing her palms tighter to him. “I’m trying. I wasn’t before.” his voice whispered out. “I was cruel. I was… so self-absorbed I didn’t bother to see what others went through. I didn’t want to see. All I knew was my own hurts, my own wants and problems.” He opened his eyes again, a fierce determination replacing his anguish. “I never want to be like that again. Never.”

“And you won’t be,” Ari’elle reassured him, smoothing her thumbs along the hollows of his cheeks. “Your will is a strong thing Cullen,” she smiled at him gently, “and you have people who care about you who will help you whenever you need it. Trust yourself; trust us.”

Cullen shuddered out a breath, his knees seemed to give out on him, and he sank to the ground. Surprised, Ari’elle watched as he settled, before he reached his hands up to her waist and pulled her down to him, pulling her into his body and wrapping himself around her. He buried his face in her neck, breathing deeply as Ari’elle combed her fingers through his hair, rubbing little circles on his broad back. How her confession had turned into this, some sort of cathartic release for Cullen, she didn’t know, but she was amazed and thrilled that she could help him. 

They stayed entangled with each other for some time, that easy peace between them a balm neither wanted to shake off. Finally, though, Ari’elle broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked as she kneaded the muscles of his neck. 

Cullen shook his head, his stubble scratching at the skin of her neck. Ari’elle giggled, but the familiar heat rolled through her, prickling at her senses. She shivered.

Cullen lifted his head and looked at her. “No, not right now, Ari.” He tilted his head to the side. “Thank you. For this and for pulling me from the river.”

“I’m glad I was able to help.” _I’m glad I was able to find you again._

He grinned that lopsided smile at her, the one that sent his scar to lifting and her head to dizzy reeling. “Do you want some sort of reward for saving my life?” 

“Uh,” Ari’elle blinked, his words registering. “A reward?” She shook her head before pausing and nodding, her hair bouncing with the movements. “A kiss?” 

Cullen chucked, his arms tightening, bringing her closer into his big body, the vibrations rumbling through where her breasts were pressed into his chest. His lips hovered over hers, his breath fanning over her own, “Just one kiss for saving the Inquisitors life? Nothing more?” 

Ari’elle brightened, “You mean more than a kiss?” Her face fell, “But there are patrols.” She could feel the pout on her face, hear it in her tone, but she couldn’t help the disappointment that was rolling through her. It didn’t occur to her that Cullen may have been thinking of something more monetary; Ari’elle was only thinking of him.

“You have the better hearing; I guess you will have to listen for them, warn me if any come by.” Cullen breathed, before he planted his lips on her.

Ari’elle sighed, giving herself over to the hungry play of lips and tongue. How was she supposed to concentrate on anything else when Cullen was kissing her? 

Ari’elle wrapped her arms around his neck, arching into him as he coaxed open her mouth, dragging his tongue against her own. They explored each other, took the time to taste and touch as they had not the other day in the dusty library. Last time had been an explosion of anger turned to desire; this time desire lead the way entirely. Not that this was slow or leisurely, though. Two months apart from each other leant both of them a frantic need for this communion. 

This time, though, Ari’elle was caught up in him, not in the anger. The way his hands moved over her body, how large they were compared to her frame. The way she and Cullen stole the breath from each other, panting as lips slid, tongues taste, teeth scraped. Beneath the scent of horses and dust, the way he still smelled like musk and elderflower and that unique scent that was him. How silky his hair felt beneath her fingers, how he radiated heat. The way her body heated and grew wet, and beneath her she could feel Cullen growing harder, larger. 

“Cullen,” Ari’elle gasped, smoothing her hands down to the strings of his pants, tugging at them. He planted both of his hands on her butt, pulling her in tightly to him, grinding against her while she struggled futilely with the knot. He hit her along that sensitive little pearl, and her mind blanked at the zing of pleasure that raced through her. Her head dropped back as she moaned, exposing the column of her neck.

A low groan echoed her own as Cullen released her lips and gazed down at the mark on her neck. Ari’elle hazily opened her eyes to see him staring at it intently. It was still a deep color, still obvious against her skin in daylight, but she didn’t think he would be able to see it now. Nevertheless, he brushed his lips gently along where it was precisely. She squirmed against him, thrilled that he knew exactly where it was even in the dark. Even though he hadn’t seen it since he had put it there.

Ari’elle brushed her fingers along the strain of his cock through his pants, listening to his groan as she tugged the lacings. Finally they were free, and Ari’elle tunneled her hand down, grasping his silky hardness. 

“Ari,” Cullen gasped against her ear, and she shuddered at the sensation, a rush of wetness dampening her undergarments even more. Cullen caught her mouth again as she slowly smoothed her hand down him and back up, savoring the feel of him. She had missed this so much while she had been away, their connection. 

Cullen’s hands pulled her jacket off, slipped up beneath her shirt and he pinched her nipples to hardness, brushing the pads of his fingers over the puckered peaks. “Ari,” he moved back to her ear, the words spoken hotly, “Ari, are you wet for me?” He licked at the point of her ear, and she shuddered again, at the wave of heat that pulsed through her core. Her hand tightened reflexively around him, and he bucked into her slow motions, pleasure spearing them both.

“Yes,” She groaned. “Feel me too,” she commanded before kissing him, swiping her tongue greedily into his mouth. 

He released one breast, his hand slowly sliding down her stomach and working at the fixtures of her pants. Far too slowly he released them, then slid his fingers down, down, down, until he finally reached where she was hot and aching. 

“Maker’s breath,” he groaned, and she felt his cock twitch in her hands, a little drop of liquid beading at his tip. “You are. And so bare. I wish…” Whatever he was thinking of made his cock twitch again, but he pulled back. Ari’elle wanted to ask him what he wished, but before she could say anything, he had removed her hand from him, picked her up and stood. He spun them both so that she was facing a tree, his body tight behind her. Against her bottom she could feel him, hard and hot pressed to her curves. 

“Cullen,” She asked, a little confused by the sudden turn of events. But she didn’t worry too much, as Cullen buried his hand back down her pants once more, the position allowing him more room. He thrummed her clit, smoothing his fingers teasingly along her cleft. 

“Too dangerous,” He panted against her ear, and Ari’elle mewled as he cupped her breast again. She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but a particularly sharp tingle of lust speared through her as he pinched her nipple, made her buck her hips back against him and she forgot to ask. 

She planted one forearm against the tree and dropped her head against it, protecting her face from the rough bark. The other reached around to his ass, feeling the delicious muscles there clench and release as he rocked against her. Sharp pants were falling from her lips as he continued to tease her, gentle touches against her clit, playing through her wetness. 

“Cullen,” she groaned in protest, wiggling her hips against his hand, trying to make him increase his pressure. 

He chuckled darkly, and nipped her lobe, a harsh groan falling from her lips. “Now, now, Ari,” he mock admonished, all the while making sure his lips brushed against her, adding to his teasing. “You are supposed to be listening for patrols. What would people think if they found us like this?” 

She made a noise of disbelief in the back of her throat, “I don’t-“ 

Cullen rubbed her clit hard and fast, and Ari’elle moaned the rest of her words, belatedly muffling her cries into her arm. She panted for a moment, her mind fuzzed, before glaring over her shoulder. “You did that on-“ Cullen repeated the motions, this time longer and harder. Ari’elle dropped her head forward limply, her hips writhing with him, feeling every little touch of his calloused fingers. 

“If you keep crying out like that, someone is going to come looking.” He warned, his own voice huskier, not unaffected by her movements against him. She just mewled, unable to say anything. He carefully traced around her entrance once more, his tone carefully controlled. “Would you hear if someone was approaching?” Cullen finally sank one finger into her, and she groaned, riding the digit as he slowly pumped it in and out. 

“Would you hear them soon enough to make me stop? To tidy yourself?” He thrust his finger deeper, rubbing at that spot inside her. Ari’elle cried out, her body clenching around him. Behind her Cullen cursed, his hips speeding up their pumping for a moment before he restrained himself. “Could you stand there and talk to someone if you were left like this, wet and aching and on the edge of release?” 

Ari’elle just groaned, so Cullen stilled. He stopped moving his hand, his body. Ari’elle squirmed, feeling the release he mentioned just out of her grasp, hovering beyond her. “Cullen,” she groaned, “Don’t stop!”

“It’s impolite to not answer a question,” he teased, nipping at her ear and suckling the tip. 

Ari’elle practically sobbed out “Yes. No. I don’t know!”

“You don’t know if you could?” Cullen asked deviously, then slipped a second finger into her, slowly pumping them in and out. “I suppose if we weren’t going to stop, you would have to be much quieter.”

“No one’s here,” She gasped out, the slow and tortuous pace making her even more restless. “So Cullen, hurry! You can’t…” 

“Oh, I can’t?” He continued to move slowly. “I believe I am.” 

Ari’elle groaned in frustration, before a frantic thought occurred to her. She reached behind her, and grasped at his cock through his pants, fitting her fingers around him. She moved her hand up and down the length pressed against her, squeezing with the pressure she knew he liked. 

Cullen cursed soundly, his plans flying out the window as she took him in hand. He gave up trying to tease her, working his fingers in her heat and brushing against her clit each time. Maker, he wanted to be inside her. To feel this heat, this wetness around him. He had almost settled her over him earlier, or laid her back on the fallen leaves and dirt and pounded into her tight sheath. He buried his face in her wild curls, breathing in her floral scent, some new wildflower she must had found, and rocked in time with her hand fisted as best as possible around him. 

“I thought about this,” he panted to her, “thought about touching you as I touched myself. Came to the thought of you coming around me.” Ari’elle let out a sobbing cry, sinking further into the fast pace, the relentless and timeless beat.

Cullen plucked at her nipples, as he thrust his fingers into her. He could feel her tensing, could feel her climax approaching. He pulled her head around, devouring the sounds she was making as he set a fast pace with his hand and made sure to rub against her clit with each pump. Ari’elle came with a cry, her hand reflexively closing harder around him, her inner walls holding him captive. He groaned helplessly, his gut knotted so tightly he couldn’t think. He wasn’t there yet, but he was close, so close.

Slowly Ari’elle came down from her high, but Cullen didn’t let her forget it. He slowly worked his fingers in her still, feeling the after effects throbbing through her. Little broken sounds still dropped from her lips each time he brushed against her clit; she must be super sensitive. He took a few deep breaths, trying to regain some control over his body, but he was too close. 

Ari’elle was still pressed to him tightly when she suddenly dropped to her knees, the movement dragging Cullen’s hand from inside her and along her sensitive flesh. She gasped, but turned swiftly, her fingers pulling his pants apart and then his cock out. In a second Ari’elle licked along the head of him, tasting at the pre-come beading there while firmly grasping the rest of his length. 

The sudden shock of it, the heat of her mouth and the suction she started up made Cullen’s eyes cross. It was his turn to brace himself against the tree, his legs shuffling out to prevent himself from toppling over. Ari’elle fitted her mouth over him, sucking at him as she bobbed her head up and down. 

“Ari,” he groaned, one hand sinking into her hair as her name dropped from his lips. 

One hand slid further down his shaft and cupped his sac. Cullen cried out in surprise, the powerful rip of lust almost tipping him into his orgasm. She carefully rolled him in her palm as she continued to bob her head. 

He hadn’t taught her that, the one though slowly penetrated his desire. He had been too… embarrassed the last time. A powerful grip of possessiveness speared him. Someone had told her… perhaps shown her. Cullen forced himself still, easing his hips back. 

“Who…” Cullen panted for breath, tried to shake some of the haze from his brain. “How did you know to do that?” 

Ari’elle smirked, her tongue darting out to dab at his crown. Cullen swallowed back the groan, tried to keep himself focused. “I traveled with three men for two months. None of them are what you would call shy.” Her eyes twinkled wickedly up at him. “I heard about a lot of new things.” 

Ari’elle tugged his cock, and rolled his balls again, her tongue dancing up and down him. Cullen gave a groan of defeat, fisted his hands in her hair. Ari’elle returned to her task eagerly, sucking at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply, trying to stave off the peak of pleasure for as long as possible. Two months. For two months he had thought about this, about her, and now that it was here, it was going by too quickly. 

Ari’elle licked all around him, taking him deep in her mouth and creating an entirely too enticing vacuum. Cullen didn’t notice when one of her hands dropped away, the sensations already overwhelming. He did notice, however, when her groans started to increase in frequency, the vibrations shuddering through him. She became more erratic as well, and Cullen finally pried open his eyes and looked down at her.

Ari’elle had one hand down her pants, working her fingers into herself. Cullen’s choked response made her eyes dart up to his. She released his cock with a pop, a leisurely lick, and stated in her panting temptresses voice “You weren’t the only one who touched them self.” With that, she set back into the pleasure and Cullen lost all control.

He held onto her head as his hips took over, driving himself into her greedy mouth. Ari’elle moaned around him, one hand playing with her clit while tugging at his balls gently. “Fuck,” Cullen cursed, and the white-hot sparks raced from his toes and fingers down to where Ari’elle was playing with him and exploded. He turned his head into his bicep, hunched over her and muffling his shouts against his shirt. Ari’elle eagerly sucked him down, her own sounds of pleasure and the vibrations it sent tingling through his cock extending his release. 

Cullen came back to his body to feel Ari’elle in his arms. They were collapsed in a jumble together against the tree. He didn’t remember dropping down, or falling down as the case may have been. His knees were shaky, hands trembling. Ari’elle’s breasts still heaved as she fought to get control of her breathing, her hands lax on his lap. Her head was supported in the crook of one of his arms, the other wrapped around her hips.

They stared at each other for a moment before Ari’elle’s lips quirked wickedly. “So… tomorrow?” Cullen groaned and laughed, then kissed her thoroughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that my Giveaway ends on December 20th! If you are interested, here is the link on tumblr: [ Giveaway](http://cometeclipsewriting.tumblr.com/post/133533995066/400-follower-giveaway)


	32. Chapter 32

They met almost every night on the way to Denerim. Ari’elle would ‘go for a walk’, and she would disappear into the woods close to where she was camping. Cullen would find her, or more accurately, Cullen would come in her general direction, and she would find him. Sometimes all they did was talk; other times they would do more intimate things. The nights where there was not enough cover to meet seemed to drag on for Ari’elle; she found it hard to sleep, hard to concentrate on anything.

Companionable silence was part of their evening; caresses sweet rewards for the time alone. If there were too many patrols in an area, they settled for sitting together, low whispers and not so chaste kisses. Ari’elle’s days were spent forcing herself to study in between daydreams of her previous night and of the hours ahead of her. 

She was glowing, happy, and others responded to it. She spoke easily with everyone, her camp sites were always filled with new friends and visitors. They all teased her when she left to take her walks, but none seemed to guess that they were not solitary. If she could have continued with those blissful days, Ari’elle would have been pleased.

Alas, they reached Denerim, and her nightly meetings with Cullen came to an end. Since their arrival two days ago, she had barely seen him. But she would tonight! She beamed at the mirror, almost bouncing in her excitement.

It wasn’t like she had been bored during her past two days. No, Denerim was exciting, fascinating, and a little scary to her. There were so many people! Varric had taken her to a tavern, a bit like the one back at Skyhold, only they had gone during the day. There had been little tables set up outside, and they had eaten Ferelden dishes and watched the bustle of crowds move briskly about their shopping.

Dorian had taken her to a magic shop, rows and rows of items strange and terrible, almost familiar and fascinating. Varric had brought her to a bookstore, and her mouth had dropped open in wonder. There had been shelves and shelves of all different subjects; knowledge just waiting for her to explore. He had laughingly shown her where his own stories dominated a small section, and had not so modestly signed a few copies at the owner’s request. Ari’elle had laughed, in awe that her friend was so well known. Varric had even bought her a few books, the precious words bundled up in blue, red, and yellow leather, titles embossed in gold. 

Ari’elle looked down at the prettily tied package on the desk in front of her, lightly brushing her fingers over the words. It was such a thoughtful gift; she hadn’t been able to open them just yet. A book on constellations, on Dalish myths, on the Inquisition that had been formed so long ago. She would open them soon, she told herself. But the perfect bow wrapped around them just seemed too pretty to untie just yet.

Ari’elle looked in the mirror she sat before, frowning slightly. She looked… strange. Her wild mass of curls had been ‘civilized’, as the hair dresser had called it. The mass had been straightened with hot tongs, a substance rubbed through before application. The unfamiliar and unpleasant smell still lingered. She had found out her hair, while touching her shoulder blades normally, when straight reached half way down her back. The lady had nodded in approval, then set to work putting every single piece up into an elaborate and twisting concoction. She plucked a white flower from the arrangement on the desk, carefully threading it into place. There, not so different now. 

Ari’elle twisted her head, the tips of her ears on prominent display. Her _vallaslin_ was also stark against her skin, make-up taking away some of the tan she had acquired, hiding her freckles beneath the layers. The other lady who had brushed liquids and powders over her skin had pressed her lips together, narrowed her eyes at the black arrow inked on her forehead down to her chin. “Nothing we can do about that,” she had said snootily, and the proceeded to ignore it as best as she could.

Denerim had taught her something else. Just how looked down on elves were outside of the Inquisition. The Dalish in particular. Iron Bull had taken her to a bakery, one known for its famous little cakes. Ari’elle swore that the man behind the counter had almost refused to serve her, until Bull had finished ducking through the doorway and taken up a stance behind her. Whatever Bull had done, the man had paled rapidly, then a slew of ingratiating words had left his lips. They both left in possession of heavenly little treats, but Ari’elle had had a bad taste in her mouth. One that the sweet desserts had not eradicated. 

Ari’elle frowned at her reflection. She had heard ‘knife-ear’ and ‘rabbit’ aimed in her direction, little children staring at her with wide, frightened eyes. Some woman had twitched the skirts out of her way, men had eyed her lasciviously. 

Ari’elle didn’t particularly like Denerim, truth be told. It was interesting, parts she liked, but on the whole she found herself longing for Skyhold, for the friendly comradery there, how everyone had treated her as an equal, with respect. Here… she was a Dalish elf first, a person second. 

A knock on her door startled her from her unpleasant thoughts, although a nervous fluttering took over. “Come in,” She called, standing up from the little chair set before the vanity.

Josephine stuck her head in the door, an excited smile lighting up her face. “Are you ready? We should depart shortly.” 

“Yes,” Ari’elle’s heart thudded, as she crossed the comfortable room, feeling as if the unknown awaited her. “Let’s go.” 

They were housed in a neat set of apartments reserved especially for the Queen’s guests, clusters of rooms done in a lavish but tasteful style. She and Josephine left the upper floor, descended down the stairs, and met up with Leliana, Varric, and Iron Bull. 

Ari’elle let out a huge sigh of relief as she saw what all the others were wearing: rich red and gold long jackets with blue sashes. The color was a bit harsh on Ari’elle, although it again picked up on the red in her hair. But Ari’elle was so pleased that she would be matching with her friends. No one would mistake her for a servant or an interloper. She was obviously a part of the Inquisition; she belonged. 

Others dressed in the same Inquisition regalia trickled in, and shortly there was quite a nice group of them. “I suppose this means we are ready,” Cullen’s voice spoke up over the general talk, stepping from a side room. He sighed, “Don’t suppose we can beg off now?” 

Josephine shook her head ruefully, “You know we cannot.”

Cullen scrubbed at the back of his neck and sighed. “I know,” he smiled lopsidedly, catching Ari’elle’s gaze. She tried to return the smile, but she felt hers wobble. Creator’s she was nervous.

“Alright everyone, follow me,” Leliana clapped her hands, and then turned and headed out the door. Cullen fell into place at Leliana’s side, leading the party from the foyer. They left the building and entered into a large courtyard. Already there were streams of elegantly dressed people heading to the large open double doors a little ways down the garden. Ari’elle knew from the previous two days that they would just have to cross this prettily done open area, and they would be in the ball. She gulped heavily, fists at her side. She was grateful that the gloves covering her hands helped to absorb some of the sweat settling there. 

Ari’elle stuck close to Josephine, pasting a smile to her face and followed the lady’s lead. Josephine would occasionally raise her hand in greeting to an acquaintance she recognized as they drifted far too slowly along. Ari’elle would dip her head in a bow to the unknown person and smiled. Josephine had told her she would make individual introductions after they were properly announced at the ball. 

Suddenly they were waiting in line at the giant doors, and Ari’elle could see inside. The floor was all one level, some sort of white stone shot through with silver glittering veins of metal. The ceiling soared as high as the one in Skyhold’s Main Hall, and up above the floor there were dozens of little balconies looking down into the space. A larger one at the far end of the hall held a group of people playing delicate tunes. Josephine had told her after the introductions were complete, dancing would start. Ari’elle would politely decline any invitations, instead suggest that whoever asked her tell her more about the culture she was so unfamiliar with.

While Skyhold had fireplaces in the main hall, here there were instead thousands of candles. Their flickering light blazed in the night, caught on the jewelry present and in the mirrors liberally hung between giant windows. The area was enormous, and already filled with clusters of handsomely dressed men and woman. 

Slowly the line inched forward, a man with a deep voice intoning the name and titles of the man or woman entering the ballroom next. A strong feeling of apprehension filled her stomach, and Ari’elle let out a steady breath, hoping it would go away. 

Josephine glanced sideways at her, worry filling her eyes although the smile never left her face. “Will you be alright?” 

Ari’elle licked her lips and nodded. “Just as soon as I can disappear into the crowd,” she muttered beneath her breath. 

Josephine linked her arm through hers, giving her a gentle squeeze. “You will do fine Ari’elle. I believe in you.”

“Inquisitor Cullen Stanton Rutherford.” Ari’elle started in shock, a feeling of panic sweeping through her. They were starting on their group! “Of Honnleath. Commander of the forces of the Inquisition. Former Knight Commander of Kirkwall.” Ari’elle could hear pleased murmurs floating through the crowd, speculation on Cullen, comments on how handsome he looked, wonder at how the Inquisition had received an invitation.

After Cullen was introduced, Cassandra was called, and Ari’elle couldn’t help but smile when a positive torrent of names were announced. Cassandra had so many? 

After Cassandra came Leliana, and Josephine gave her arm one final squeeze before dropping it, stepping forward to take her place. Ari’elle gulped, realizing she was next.

“Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City, Ambassador of the Inquisition.” Josephine smoothly glided forward as her name was announced, leaving Ari’elle standing with no one to block her from all the prying eyes now turned in her direction.

“Mistress Ari’elle Lavellan, of Clan Lavellan,” the man intoned, reading her name off a card he held in his hand. Ari’elle’s knees about gave away, but she somehow took a step, shaking off the spiral of paralyzing panic that slipped through her. She could feel all eyes on her; feel the weight of their speculation. 

To her surprise, the man kept speaking. “Bearer of the Mark, and Tamer of Rifts.” Ari’elle blinked, the calm smile glued to her face. She had a title? More than just her name? No one had told her that. 

Her ability to walk now on autopilot, Ari’elle drifted across the floor following Josephine. All around her she could hear the conversations were now about her. “Dalish? How remarkable.” “Do you think she can really close the rifts?” “Just a rabbit, after all.” “Tattoo? On her face?” “How Quaint.”

Suddenly the absurdity of it all caught up to her. These people knew nothing about her, knew nothing about what she had done in the past few months. She was a valuable part of the Inquisition, and nothing they said here would change all that. 

Ari’elle’s smile bloomed into a mischievous grin, her chin rose in defiance. Nothing these silly people said would bring her down; she was ready.

***

Cullen smiled politely down at the veiled suggestive invitation, a practiced refusal slipping easily from his lips. It felt as if he was mostly responding to flirting, instead of fending off the political questions he had expected. No matter, it was easy enough to respond once you had a refusal already plotted out. The first few had come as a shock, but now they were becoming increasingly annoying.

Over another perfectly coiffed head, Cullen looked to where Ari’elle stood next to Josephine. She was smiling up at Dorian, and made some sort of remark. It was spoken through curled lips, her little sly smile with flashing eyes, and all around her people laughed. He couldn’t help the touch of pride, a warmth blooming in his chest. She was doing well. Earlier she had looked stiff, and he had known she had been close to terrified. But something had changed as she had walked down the ballroom; she had come alive, become radiant with her natural humor and joy once more. 

“Excuse me Inquisitor, I would like to introduce you to someone,” Cullen turned back, politely waiting for the man he had met earlier to continue. Cullen couldn’t remember his name currently, but he was not annoying, was rather gentlemanly, truthfully. Cullen would be polite.

The older gentleman turned, a proud smile on his face. “This is Lady Evangelina Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste.”

A woman stepped forward, dressed in a flowy peach colored dress. Her golden hair was done up elegantly, her cornflower blue eyes brilliant in the candle light. She extended her gloved hand and smiled up at him gently. “The Inquisitor and I have met, although it has been many years. Isn’t that correct, Inquisitor Cullen?”

Cullen was startled, automatically accepting her delicate hand and bringing it to his lips for a customary kiss. “Evangelina. It has been years indeed.” He remembered her. A pretty young mage newly arrived at Kinloch Hold, who had become a favorite among her peers. She had spent only a year at the Circle before the… before the nasty business, and she had disappeared during that time. Cullen had never known what had happened to her. On the days when he hadn’t been so twisted with hate, he had wondered at her fate, had hoped she hadn’t been slaughtered.

Cullen shook himself from his memories. “Herald of Andraste? This is the first I am hearing of such a thing.”

She blushed prettily, casting her eyelashes down. “It is… something that has come about just recently.” 

Cullen noticed that the man, what was his name?, had backed away, leaving the two of them relatively alone. Evangelina hesitated for a moment before she spoke to him lightly. “Do you mind, that is, would it be too troublesome if I could speak to you alone? I have something I would like to discuss with you.”

Cullen frowned for a second before wiping away the expression. She had always been a demure young lady, and it did not appear that she had changed much. The heat of the ballroom was quite high, and she was an old acquaintance, even if she had not been a friend. He supposed it would be harmless enough. Cullen held out his elbow for her, “Shall we step outside?”

She smiled up at him and slipped her arm through his. Cullen tossed a quick glance to where Ari’elle and Josephine stood, then led Evangelina from the crowded room.

Slowly they put the crowds behind them, though there were still plenty of people meandering through the gardens. Cullen felt relief as he saw they would not be alone. He would be surprised if a young lady such as Evangelina tried something, but he was glad for all the chaperones. They silently walked to the railing, letting the pleasant breeze cool them for a moment. 

When she made no move to speak, Cullen prodded her gently. “There was something you wished to discuss?”

She smiled, a tinge of nervousness coloring it. “Yes,” she said with quite determination. Instead of answering though, she lifted her hands, and started to work her glove off her left hand. Cullen felt his eyebrows rise, but he kept quiet. 

When the last of her fingers were released, Evangelina gently drew the glove off her arm, and a green light filled the space. Cullen’s mouth dropped; he recognized it. “This is why I am lauded as the Herald of Andraste,” Evangelina said simply.

It was the Mark, the same one Ari’elle wore. Except Evangelina’s was currently glowing, magic moving even without a Rift nearby. Cullen froze for a long minute, staring at her hand. Evangelina spoke nervously into the silence, explaining. “Three months ago, when…” she shuddered delicately, “When the Breach was created, I disappeared into a Rift. A day later, I fell from a different one. The people who found me said that in the Rift behind me, Andraste was guarding over me. I don’t remember it, or how I was able to close the Rift, but somehow I did, saving the people there from the demons coming through.”

Cullen gapped, his mind still not able to wrap around what she was saying. There were two Marks? Evangelina could close Rifts as well? Andraste had blessed her? Evangelina was a mage, though! 

“I was hoping,” The petite woman’s blue eyes beseeched him; “I was hoping I could join with the Inquisition, that you could help me control my powers. So that I might be of some use.” Impulsively, Evangelina reached out, wrapping her hands around his hand, the smooth and unblemished skin of her exposed hand warm through his glove. A small strip of her left hand hit the bare part of his wrist, and Cullen felt a slight tingle race through him at the touch of her skin, a hum that he almost recognized.

Cullen shook his head, trying to banish the haze there. Ari’elle and Evangelina both had abilities to close Rifts. Evangelina wished to join him so that she could help with their mission as well. The answer was simple. “Of course you may help.” Cullen turned his hand, grasping her left hand again. “It would be an honor.” He brought her hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss directly across the silky skin there. 

At the same time, a scent floated to him, a scent he instantly recognized. Cullen tightened his hand, pulling her closer. Evangelina gasped softly, her eyes flying wide and staring at his face in surprise. A heady, floral scent. One tinged with the faintest traces of lyrium. He knew this; had smelt it once before. The morning after his fall in the river, he had smelled this scent on the fur of his mantle. “It was you,” he whispered. 

Evangelina blinked, confusion and apprehension on her face. “What do you mean?” She breathed.

“You saved me. You pulled me from the river, back in the Arbor Wilds. You are the one who saved me.” Cullen’s mind was racing, putting pieces together. No wonder he had originally thought it had been a mage; the traces of lyrium in the floral were obvious. He could tell now that he could breathe in more than just a passing drift. “Why did you not come forward?”

A becoming blush flushed up her cheeks, and she dropped her head, hiding her face. Little feathers of wheat colored hair brushed her forehead, curled around her curved ears. They looked baby soft. Like her skin was. 

For a long time she kept quiet, before an explanation rushed from her. “I didn’t know the Circles had fallen. I was an apostate, hiding where I thought I would be safe. And a mage as the Herald of Andraste? I thought people hated me.” Her eyes flew up to his, wide and beseeching. “I know that at one point you despised mages. Don’t you see I was afraid for my life? I was afraid…” She trailed off, “But I couldn’t let you die.” She whispered, her lovely gaze trailing over his face. Her free hand rose slightly, as if to touch his chest, then dropped to her side. “I used magic to get you out in the river. Then I fled.”

The revelations knocked Cullen, and he clung to her hand, thoughts tumbling through his mind. Evangelina had saved him, not Ari’elle. This slip of a mage had saved someone who she must have thought was going to imprison her back in a Circle, or worse, kill her. She had risked herself to save him.

“You don’t…” She stepped a fraction closer, lessening the distance between them, “You don’t hate me, do you? Even though I am a mage?” Her brows were knitted in worry, slight lines appearing between the delicate arches. 

“No,” Cullen rushed to assure her, covering her hand, looking down into the blue depths of her eyes. He took another deep breath, enjoying the heady fragrance of her perfume, the hum of electricity sparking through him from the Mark on her hand. “No Evangelina, I don’t hate you.”

But, a part of his mind lashed out, Ari’elle had lied to him. Ari’elle had not gotten the Mark from a trip through a Rift, had not been blessed by Andraste, like Evangelina had. It had seemed improbable that she could have pulled him from a rushing river all by herself, and now he knew that it was because she had made up the story. What else had she lied about?

***

“Have you seen Cullen?” Josephine murmured to Ari’elle. 

She shook her head, nibbling her lip and looked around the ballroom. He wasn’t anywhere she could see, nor was he in one of the balconies up above. “Perhaps he is out in the garden?” She suggested.

“Could you find him and bring him here please? I need to introduce him to the Teyrn.” Ari’elle nodded and slipped away. 

Perhaps if Cullen were in the garden, they could sneak in a few kisses. A bright smile spread over her face, and Ari’elle wove quickly through the crowds.

She blinked at the doorway, the darkness of night very different from how bright it had been inside. Slowly she swept her eyes over the people closest to her, then looking a bit beyond. 

There! Ari’elle would recognize Cullen’s golden curls anywhere. She beamed as she skipped towards him quickly. “Cullen,” She called out when she was just a little ways from his back, “Josephine would like…”

Ari’elle’s voice trailed off as she realized he was not alone. His head was bowed over a beautiful, gentle looking woman with silky golden hair. They were standing quite close to each other, Cullen’s hands wrapped around one of hers, and they were staring into each other’s eyes. A dull thumping feeling spread through Ari’elle’s chest, and she swallowed heavily.

Cullen turned to her, a frown spreading over her features. He looked… angry. At her? Her heart thudded again, and she licked her lips, halting. There was an atmosphere around the two of them. One that told her she was not welcome, that she was interrupting something intimate. “Josephine would like you.” The words felt harsh, torn from her throat, and she found she couldn’t say anything else. 

Cullen’s jaw clenched, and he carefully released the blonde’s hand. The woman blushed, a glow of green highlighting her hand for a second before she hurriedly put a glove back on. Cullen practically stomped to Ari’elle, and she snapped her eyes to his face. He had never looked at her like this before, never looked at her as if she were less. And there was anger blazing in his amber eyes, directed only at her. “You and I have much to talk about Ari’elle.” He growled down at her. Usually his growling voice made her shiver in desire; this time it made her soul quake. “You lied to me. About your mark, about saving me, about your reasons for joining the Inquisition. About everything.” 

Her lips parted, the refute sticking in her throat. She had lied to him. Not about everything, but she had lied to him about how she received her Mark. She couldn’t tell him.

Cullen watched her face closely, disgust twisting his lips. “We will discuss this later.” Without another look at her, Cullen turned and held his arm out for the woman. She looked worriedly at Ari’elle as she passed, but smiled up at Cullen when she slid her hand into his arm. He covered her hand hanging on his arm tenderly. Together the two of them gracefully strode back into the glimmering light.

And Ari’elle stayed frozen in the dark.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone! I hope you all had a fantastic past few weeks. I work night shifts, so shifting my sleep schedule to fit the holidays, plus working AND seeing all the family that are only in town during the Holidays put a serious crimp on my time. And my sleep... sooo not enough sleep, lol. So I am sorry for the delay in the new chapter, but this time I promise it was warranted and not a writers block! Now, on to the angst (ouch!)!

Ari’elle stayed in her room all the next day, waiting for Cullen to call for her. He would want to talk to her about whatever had happened yesterday. She raced through a bath, grimacing as she washed away the concoction that was holding her hair straight. She nibbled her lip as she paced, picked at the food delivered to her.

But he did not come.

After a fitful night listening to the footsteps pass her door in the corridor, Ari’elle sent a request to speak with him. Varric and Dorian convinced her to go walk in the gardens with them, coaxing her with the thought of seeds. However, the Queen’s gardeners were too diligent. No flower in the royal gardens was allowed to wither enough to produce seeds. Only pristine blooms were to be found, and while it was lovely, it didn’t stop Ari’elle from tracking every servant that appeared to be headed towards them.

Dejected, Ari’elle returned to her rooms and waited some more.

A knock on her door sent her flying across the room, her heart jumping. Wrenching open the door, Cullen’s name died on her lips at the pristinely dressed housemaid standing before her. “Yes?” Ari’elle croaked out, her eyes seeking either way down the hall.

“Excuse me, My Lady,” The human said in perfect respectful tones, but Ari’elle saw her eyes tracing her _vallaslin_. “I have been instructed to inform you that the Inquisition will be departing tomorrow at noon.” 

Ari’elle blinked in reply. So soon? And so abruptly?

“If there is any help you would wish, please just ask.” The woman bobbed a little curtsy and started to fade discreetly into the background. 

“Wait!” Ari’elle blurted out, the words leaving before she had truly decided to ask. “Do you know where Cull- I mean the Inquisitor is tonight?”

“He is dining with Lord Trevelyan, My Lady, as well as his niece Lady Evangelina Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste!” The woman’s eyes shone with amazement and worship, clearly in alt that there was a party of such illustrious individuals.

“Oh,” Ari’elle whispered, feeling that strange echoing throb in her chest that had been beating there for the past two days pulse painfully. “Thank you,” she pushed out to the retreating back of the maid. 

Wearily Ari’elle closed the door and turned. She stopped for a moment, staring unseeing at the luxurious carpet. Her brows furrowed, and her lips were sunk into her bottom lip. Is that where Cullen had been the last day as well? With the Trevelyans? 

For a long moment she stayed where she was. After a time, though, she squared her slumped shoulders and brought her chin up. Taking a deep breath, she tried to push aside the ache in her chest. Tomorrow they would be leaving Denerim, which meant she would see him. If she asked him personally, she was sure Cullen would take the time to talk to her, even if he were angry with her.

While not feeling exactly better, Ari’elle felt more grounded now that she had a plan. Turning to her clothes, she started packing things away. Her saddlebags were still in the room with her, and at the beginning of their stay Josephine had produced a small trunk filled with appropriate attire for her. Briskly Ari’elle set about putting things to rights.

Ari’elle jumped slightly when some time later there was another knock on her door. She frowned as she crossed to open it. It was quite late, must be nearing midnight. Could it be?

“Cullen,” Ari’elle gasped softly as he was revealed in the doorway. He was dressed formally, perhaps straight from his dinner. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, and he stared down at her, his face impassive. But his eyes were sharp; the amber which usually was warm as he looked at her was now hard, studying her. Ari’elle dropped her gaze from his, a pang shooting through her. Creators, she hated that he looked at her like that.

“I was just packing,” Ari’elle stammered out, twisting to show him her room, “But I could move some things around if you would like to come in?” She peeked up at him.

“No,” he shook his head once, “I would like to move to one of the private parlors downstairs.” Ari’elle’s heart thumped. At this time of night, that area would be deserted, no one around. 

“Aright,” she gulped, slowly crossing back to him. He turned and started down the hallway, dropping his arms to his sides. Ari’elle softly closed her door and followed him. He looked so handsome in the formal wear, a dark blue material with silver accents. His golden hair was tousled from the perfect arrangement, though. It looked as it had when she had run her fingers through it. Had Lady Trevelyan done it? Had Cullen kissed her? Her heart thumped harder, echoing through her body. No, she shook her head wildly; she didn’t want to think about it. 

In silence they descended to the lower floor, and entered one of the side rooms. Ari’elle shut the door behind her and then stopped, uncertain. Cullen had crossed to the fireplace, gazing down at the empty grating. No ash lay in the hearth, although there had been a fire there yesterday. The Queen probably did not allow such untidiness. The room was light with candles, keeping the area bright. Ari’elle wished it was dimmer; for some reason that seemed like it would help. 

For long moments neither spoke. Her anxiety kept creeping to higher levels, and she shifted restlessly. She didn’t know what to say, but if he kept quiet much longer she was just going to burst and start rambling something out. She pressed her lips together, though. She couldn’t accidentally tell him about Corypheus; she couldn’t. 

“Evangelina,” Cullen finally broke the tense atmosphere, almost making her jump at the abruptness of his voice, “told me several things which have directly contradicted your own accounts.” He turned to look at her. “Firstly, she has a Mark, same as you do. Another Anchor.”

Ari’elle’s lips parted in surprise, and for a long time she just stared at him. “But… but how is that possible?” She finally pushed out.

“Evangelina told me that she was pulled into a Rift, and when she exited, the Anchor was attached to her hand.” 

Ari’elle’s eyebrows drew down in puzzlement. Sucked into a Rift? Was that possible? Every Rift she had seen had only ever spewed things out. They didn’t seem much like a door people could enter into, had never felt as if it were pulling her in. And secondly, had Corypheus given this Evangelina an Anchor as well? Had he been inside the Rift too? Or was she lying?

“There is something more. She received her title, the Herald of Andraste, due to the fact that Andraste herself was guarding her and blessed her with the ability to close the Rifts.” Cullen’s eyes snapped with fire. “You mentioned no such thing. Was there a woman, Ari’elle? Did you receive your mark from Andraste as well, and then lie to me about how you received it?”

“No!” Ari’elle burst out. 

“No, what?” Cullen growled, “No you didn’t get it from Andraste? Or no you didn’t lie to me?”

Ari’elle searched for the words, any words, to be able to explain it all to him. But she couldn’t tell Cullen the truth. She would break her contract with Corypheus, and it would force her to return to him immediately to face Creators knew what. And she didn’t want to tell Cullen she had made a deal with his enemy. “No,” She finally whispered, “There was no woman.”

Cullen laughed harshly, “Oh, that’s right. You woke up with it and the knowledge of how to use it, all just magically appearing.” His tone was scoffing, sarcastic, and each word ripped into her. It sounded ridiculous, fake. Until now it had served, but it now sounded like the lie it was.

Ari’elle could feel his eyes on her, feel the tension between them. It was worse than the last time they had fought, way worse. His anger last time had been driven by his concern for her. This time though… “I can’t tell you,” Ari’elle finally spoke, staring at the carpet. 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

“Can’t!” She finally looked at him. His clenched fists mirrored her own, but there the similarities ended. Ari’elle knew there was little color in her face, the feeling gone from her finger tips. In contrast, Cullen’s face was red in anger, his jaw clenched and lips pressed together so hard his scar had gone a brilliant white. “I can’t tell you!” Ari’elle felt as if she were no longer tracking, the situation becoming unreal. “I just can’t.”

“So how do I know you are not some sort of spy? Or that you have some plans to hurt the Inquisition?”

“I would never hurt the Inquisition!” Ari’elle gasped in shock, staring at him. Did he not know her at all? “I have made friends here, spent the past few months doing everything I could to help! Have I not proven that I only want to help?” She shook her head in bewilderment. “You said I was making a difference,” Ari’elle whispered, feeling moisture pool behind her eyes. She bit her lip and turned away, not wanting him to see. She closed her eyes hard over the tears, trying to get her breathing under control. 

The throbbing silence made Ari’elle’s skin crawl, make her stomach roll, but she finally got her emotions under control. Slowly she turned back to him. For a fleeting moment she thought she saw pain on Cullen’s face, but then the fury returned.

“There was another thing.” Something else? Ari’elle had never lied to him except about the Anchor. What else would there be?

“A few nights ago, you told me a story. One I now know was made up.” His eyes bored into hers. “Why did you lie and say you had saved me from the river?” 

“What?” Ari’elle shook her head, “What do you mean?”

“I remember that night,” His voice became modulated, strange, the anger leaving his face and becoming expressionless. Ari’elle stared at him in confusion. 

“You were unconscious. I’m not sure if it was from the demon’s attack or from hitting the water, but you never woke up.” 

Cullen’s teeth clench and unclenched, Ari’elle watching his jaw flex. He blinked a few times before he shook his head. “No, I remember it. It was not you who saved me that night. It was Evangelina.”

Ari’elle gaped at him. Evangelina? Who was this woman? “No one else was there Cullen! You sent the rest of the Inquisition soldiers away, staying behind to allow for their retreat. But you were cut off from escape, and they maneuvered you to the cliff edge. I started to attack the wraiths, hoping I could help you finish them off, but before we could, you fell off the side.” Ari’elle stepped closer to him, watching him carefully. “Do you remember that?”

Cullen’s brows drew down in confusion, obviously thinking back. “I remember… I remember telling everyone to fall back, but I don’t remember anything else.” He looked lost for a moment and Ari’elle stepped a little closer. All of the sudden his face cleared, once again becoming that strange mask. “I remember Evangelina.”

“But how could you Cullen? She wasn’t there.” Ari’elle shook her head, then pushed her curls back. Something in her told her this was important, that she needed to get him to believe the truth in what had happened that night. “I pulled you from the river, removed your armor. There was no one else with us there that night. We were alone until the morning. When I heard your friends calling for you, I left, but there was never anyone else there.” She reached out a hand and placed it on his cheek. Gently she tilted his face down so that he was looking at her, his distant eyes meeting her beseeching ones. “It was just us,” she told him softly.

He stared at her for a moment, but he was not seeing her. All at once, his amber eyes connected with her brown ones and he jerked his head back, “No!” He spun away from her, striding across the room. “You lied to me about that night, Ari’elle! Evangelina told me the truth, and it all came back to me. She used magic to take me from the river. She helped me remove my armor. That scent… You lied to me again!” 

This time she couldn’t help the tears that came to her eyes. How could he believe this woman he had just met so implicitly over her? How could Evangelina convince him to remember things that were not true? “I am not lying, Cullen. I helped you. I dove into the water after you, I kept you afloat, protected you from the rocks. I had the bruises and cuts to prove it. I hauled you from the water, and removed your armor, even though I could barely stand.” Her voice wobbled, words catching as she fought to control herself. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“What you are telling me contradicts my own memories, Ari’elle.” He gazed at her hard. “Stop this.” 

Ari’elle muffled the sob that escaped her in her hand, but she couldn’t stop the tear that spilled over. She whirled away from him, taking his place and staring into the empty hearth, putting her back to him. She quickly scrubbed at her cheek, hoping he hadn’t seen her cry. 

Across the room, Cullen sighed heavily. “That night, I told you something.” His voice was rough; it sounded as if he was fighting to regain control of his emotions. “I told you I never want to be so sunk in anger I ignored everything else.” He paused for a moment before he sighed again. He sounded exhausted. “Ari’elle, it was never my intention to hurt you. We will revisit this when we reach Skyhold. I…” he faltered, and she waited, a spark of hope still lingering in her chest. “I am afraid I cannot trust you right now Ari’elle. I would assign you a guard, but in light of all you have done for the Inquisition, I will refrain from going that far.” Ari’elle closed her eyes. Her lips trembled as the spark died, but she didn’t make a sound.

She heard Cullen crossing to the door. “You will still depart with us tomorrow at noon. Be ready then.” There was no anger in his voice anymore, just distant coolness mixed with his commanding tone. He shut the door firmly behind him.

Ari’elle blindly stumbled to a chair and sank down. He was keeping his promise to himself that he would never sink into his fury again. Even if she was not forgiven, he was not going to be angry with her. It did little to help her though; he didn’t trust her anymore. How was she going to regain it? Her heart hurt, Ari’elle realized, rubbing absently at the ache and wiped away a few more streaks of wetness on her cheeks.

After a long time she rose and headed back to her room. She still had packing to do. 

As she was leaving the room she realized he had never once called her Ari.


	34. Chapter 34

Ari’elle slipped into the bustle of the crowd, Inquisition soldiers and retainers working to get things stored away in time for their noon departure. It had been torturous to stay confined to her room, but Ari’elle hadn’t wanted to run into Cullen. Their fight last night weighed with her heavily; would he still be as twisted up about it as she was? Despite his words to her, would he be angry with her?

She located her horse and made ready for departure, all the while scanning the crowd. She couldn’t see Cullen around, but she knew he had to be somewhere close by. Cullen was too mindful of his position as the Inquisitor to shirk his duties.

A silver stallion caught her eye. Imperial was being led towards the back of the group, saddled and bridled. Steeling herself, Ari’elle made her way to Cullen’s horse. She didn’t really want to see Cullen right now, but she knew she was being a coward. And Ari’elle didn’t like feeling like a coward.

Ari’elle slowly crossed to the large horse, and he caught sight of her. Imperial nodded his head, his mane flying, and whickered at her. With a little smile, Ari’elle rubbed along his velvet soft nose, “Hello Imperial.” He bumped his head against her hand, lipping for the treat she normally had for him. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you today. I will make it up to you later,” she quietly talked to him. Imperial’s ears flicked around to listen to her, his warm eyes bestowing a sense of peace she hadn’t realized she had been seeking.

A rumbling sound pulled both their heads around, and they watched as a carriage pulled into the courtyard. It was ornamented and gleaming in the bright summer sunlight, obviously denoting the wealth and stature of its owner. There were two men sitting up front, and two more men riding behind. One of them led a saddled horse. Ari’elle frowned at the ostentatious display. What was this?

The door to the carriage opened, and Ari’elle watched as Cullen descended from the inside. He looked well rested, relaxed and… happy. He smiled and turned, holding out his hand. A woman’s hand came out to meet his, and Cullen carefully helped her descend the small step.

It was the woman from the balcony, the Herald of Andraste. Evangelina. Ari’elle spun away from the two of them, emotions twisting through her. The woman who also bore the same Anchor she did, according to Cullen. And the one who had also lied to Cullen and said she had saved him, not Ari’elle. Why was she here? Why was Cullen with her? Why had the woman lied?

Although she could not see them, Ari’elle’s heightened sense of hearing cursed her to hear all behind her. 

“It will be a long journey, are you sure you would like to come?” Cullen’s voice was full of concern.

“Of course,” Evangelina said calmly, “I am not so delicate that I don’t know hard travel. Must I remind you I have been all over Thedas?” She teased gently. “I wouldn’t even notice the distance if I spent it in your company. Do you intend to ride this morning?”

“I do, and if you-“ Cullen cut himself off, their footsteps which had been approaching Ari’elle halting. “Ari’elle,” Cullen’s words had a hint of a question to them. Gulping, Ari’elle steeled herself and turned. Cullen was watching her, Evangelina’s arm looped familiarly with his. His amber gaze was shuttered, not angry, not warm like they used to be when he looked at her. Just polite distance. She hated it. “Ari’elle, may I introduce to you Lady Evangelina Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste?”

The petite woman next to him smiled warmly, and slipped from Cullen’s side, stepping closer to Ari’elle and holding out her hand, “Ari’elle Lavellan, correct? Cullen tells me that you and I share a particular ability. One that you have put to great use, I have heard!”

Ari’elle licked her lips, uncertain of Evangelina’s friendliness. Her gaze darted between the stoic form of Cullen and Evangelina’s open one. Tentatively she reached out and took the gloved hand extended to her, clasping it as she had been taught. “I have been told this as well. And it was nothing, I assure you.”

“I am quite sure that is not true! Oh, I am very pleased to meet you,” Evangelina effused, a brilliant smile alighting her beautiful face. “I do hope that you can help me learn about this silly mark,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I have never known what to do to close the Rifts; I actually wasn’t sure it was possible to do it again!” The mage impulsively grabbed Ari’elle’s hands, giving them a friendly squeeze, “I hope that we can be friends!”

Ari’elle blinked at her for a moment, a strange numbness climbing through her before she nodded. “Of course,” she said in a daze, “I would be happy to help.”

Another brilliant smile chased away the look of hopeful anxiety on Evangelina’s peaches and cream expression, no hint of triumph or malice evident. Ari’elle forced herself to return the smile, but it felt stiff and unnatural. This was not how she had expected this introduction to go. She had thought Evangelina would be… smug, perhaps, or rude and haughty, but she seemed so nice and good.

Ari’elle swallowed and stammered out an excuse, “It’s time to go soon, isn’t it? I must find my mare.” She started to back away, eager to escape. As soon as Evangelina’s hands were free, she slipped back to Cullen’s side, linking their arms again. Ari’elle froze for a second, looking at the picture they made together.

Her heart jerked. They looked perfect side by side, as if they were meant to be like that. Her wheat colored hair shone like spun gold in the sunlight, Cullen’s own darker blond glinting similarly. With their arms linked, they stared into each other’s eyes, lost to anything else. Evangelina had turned to smile up at him, and he bestowed a look of pure adoration down to her upturned face. Ari’elle’s lips parted as she lingered over Cullen expression. She had never seen him look like that before. He had never looked at her as if she were something otherworldly, as if she held the answers to all the world’s questions.

Ari’elle spun on her heels and fled, shaking her head to clear the seared picture from her mind. “Don’t think about it,” she whispered to herself. “Don’t think about it.”

It was impossible to stick to those words, however. Cullen and Evangelina became a staple together that day. They rode next to each other as much as possible, talking and laughing contagiously. Cullen would be called away for one reason or the other, but he would find his way back to Evangelina’s side, and bestow on her the most revering smiles. Ari’elle didn’t mean to be around them as much as she was, but she couldn’t help herself. Was she imagining the looks between the two of them? Was she seeing more than was really there? No, she looked around at the other members of the Inquisition; she was not making things up. The two were drawing attention, sideways glances and knowing smiles. 

As for Ari’elle, whenever he came into contact with her Cullen didn’t look at her the same way he had. Ari’elle knew that it was broken between them; he didn’t trust her anymore. However, he was true to his word; he wasn’t angry with her either. She was unknown to him now, as if she were a lowly, anonymous member of the Inquisition. It hurt to see him look at her so distantly.

Riding just a short ways behind them, Ari’elle sat up straighter in her saddle. She and Cullen just needed to talk. Ari’elle scrubbed a hand through her hair, tangling the curls further. They just need to talk again. She would apologize, explain to him as much as possible about what had happened to her, and tell him she would never betray him. Ari’elle nibbled her _vallaslin_ ; she wasn’t sure how she was going to do that, but when they were face to face, just the two of them, she would find the right words. She had to. She couldn’t bear that he no longer trusted her.

A relieved sigh escaped her, and she felt some of her familiar confidence come back. Tonight they would talk and she would set things right. A determined smile spread over her lips. She would.

That night, with her goal in mind, Ari’elle stuck close to Cullen and Evangelina. They had drawn together a large group, Cullen’s intention to introduce Evangelina to everyone. It was an engaging party, everyone laughing and chattering. Ari’elle tried her best to keep up with the revelry, but her heart wasn’t in it. Evangelina had removed her gloves, her hand glowing that familiar green, drawing everyone’s attention. Ari’elle clenched her own hand, conscious of the dust and dirt covering it and how her Anchor for some reason looked nothing like Evangelina’s. There must be a reason for it, but Ari’elle didn’t know.

Across the fire, Cullen and Evangelina sat next to each other. And it seemed like every chance she got, Evangelina would brush her hand against his, touch his arm, and one time she even braced herself on Cullen’s thigh. Ari’elle felt each contact as a painful tug, but it was Cullen’s responses that felt like little knives. Every time Evangelina would brush against him, he would look at her like she was Andraste herself. 

As the night dragged on and the large group showed no signs of stopping, Ari’elle couldn’t remain any longer. Abruptly she stood, startling Varric who sat next to her. “I’m going for a walk,” she announced. The words came out louder than she expected, and heat flamed in her cheeks. She had just wanted Cullen to be able to hear her; not the entire camp. She hesitated there for a moment, flicking her eyes to where Cullen sat. He didn’t even look over to her, didn’t look as if he had heard her. Ari’elle swallowed and turned towards the forest. She had been loud enough; he had heard her, she was sure of it. He would come.

Ari’elle made her way into the darkness, following a simple line away from camp. She wanted to make it easy for Cullen to find her. Ari’elle settled down, her back against a tree, and looked the way she came. She wasn’t sure how long she would have to wait, but hopefully it would not be too long. He had always come to her before.

Some time passed, and Ari’elle heard the crunching of leaves, the snap of twigs. Nervously she stood, shifting her weight back and forth as he approached. Ari’elle peered through the darkness, then spun around the tree, hiding behind it. It was not Cullen. It was a patrol, just doing his job. Ari’elle hid as he passed, not wanting to be seen. She didn’t want anyone to know she was alone and waiting.

Ari’elle slid down the tree once more, wrapping her arms around her knees. She shivered in the night air. She was cold, despite the temperature being mild. It seemed like the cold was just radiating through her though, leaving blankness in its wake.

She waited. Then waited some more. The chatter of the soldiers died away as everyone turned to sleep, the only sounds coming from the patrols and the occasional night animal. Ari’elle started to shiver harder, and after a long while finally accepted the truth. He wasn’t coming.

Ari’elle stood, her muscles cramped from staying in the same position so long. She pressed her lips together as she made her way back. Perhaps he couldn’t get away today. That had happened before, even though only twice; she would just try again tomorrow.

***

After the fifth night spent waiting for him, Ari’elle acknowledged what she didn’t want to: Cullen was avoiding her. Each night she had taken her customary walk, and each night Cullen had not followed. 

And she had found something else out: her and Cullen’s… whatever it had been, had not been as secret as they had supposed. Ari’elle saw the looks the others were giving her. The pitying side glances each time she stood and left for her walks. The knowing looks they gave each other when Cullen and Evangelina touched hands; everyone looking to her to see how she would react.

Ari’elle found she was not very good at controlling her expressions. She knew that people could read whatever she felt, and she could feel it plastered all over her face. She forced herself to stop biting her lip, tried instead to look like she was being lectured at by Josephine. But she didn’t think she was fooling anyone.

Cullen devoted most of his time to Evangelina; one was almost never seen without the other. He had never behaved like that with her. Every time Ari’elle thought about it, it felt like her heart was ripped to shreds. His look of devotion whenever he looked at Evangelina seemed to grow each day, and Ari’elle couldn’t take it anymore. 

She rode at the very front of the party, leading the way back. Cullen never quite came this far forward, and she was safe from accidentally catching a glimpse of the two together. Plus, she couldn’t see the curious or pitying glances others shot at her. It was much better. Besides, she thought desperately, her heightened senses would be put to the greatest use up at the front. She could help warn of an ambush, just as she had once before. 

A horse nosed its way up to her side, and Ari’elle turned in surprise. Cassandra, Ari’elle gaped. The proud woman stared intently at the road before them, looking for all the world as she normally did, a strong and confident woman. Ari’elle just blinked in confusion, though. Ever since her earlier gaff with the Seeker, Cassandra had never sought her out. Now though, she was purposefully riding with her.

Feeling Ari’elle’s eyes on her, Cassandra finally turned to look at the elf. Dark brown eyes met dark brown eyes, and Ari’elle saw…. compassion in them. A simple warmth. Cassandra nodded her head once, then turned her focus back to the road.

Ari’elle felt tears spring to her eyes, and she swallowed heavily, blinking rapidly down at her saddle. The simple act gave her the first bubble of true kinship Ari’elle had felt in days. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Ari’elle braced herself and stood to attention once more. Silently, they rode side by side, Ari’elle gathering strength from her new friend.

That night, Ari’elle picked a camp away from Cullen. She didn’t need to keep torturing herself. To her surprise, Varric and Dorian joined her. The conversation was light and reminiscing, and Ari’elle smiled in spite of herself. As things died down, she stood, but instead of heading towards the woods, she turned to her tent. 

“No walk tonight?” Varric asked gently.

Ari’elle froze, her throat closing up. Perfect. Even Varric and Dorian knew. Of course, though. How could they not know? For a long moment she battled with herself, until the words finally were able to escape. “No,” she said quietly. “I’m tired.”

The pattern played out the same every day until Skyhold’s entrance came into view. With a sigh of relief, Ari’elle kicked her horse into a gallop and flew the last distance to the castle. The general cry of the Inquisitor’s return drew many people to the gate, all cheering happily at the return of the group. Ari’elle pasted on a smile, pleased that no one here knew anything. There were no curious sideways glances or pity. Mostly she heard people calling “Welcome back,” and “Did you see the Queen?” 

Ari’elle moved to the stables swiftly. She wanted to be away from everyone, wanted some time to herself. She removed her gear from her horse, giving the little mare the attention she deserved after their long journey. Ari’elle heard the general noise outside the stables increase as more of the group came through. A festive atmosphere pervaded the air, and Ari’elle couldn’t wait to be away from it.

With her tasks finished, Ari’elle grabbed up her things and slipped into the courtyard. Sliding along the back wall she received minimum attention, most everyone focused on Cullen. Her eyes caught on where he stood, smiling broadly and shaking hands with a number of soldiers. As she watched, Cullen turned to where Evangelina still sat on her horse. He placed his hands on her hips and gently lifted her from the saddle. Evangelina blushed demurely, her hands slipping into the fur on his shoulders, staring into his eyes the whole time.

Ari’elle spun before she saw any more and fled the crowd. The tears that always felt so close were threatening again, and she sniffed, blinking them away. 

The gardens. They were always quiet and relatively empty; plus she was aching to see her plants. Cole was sure to have taken great care with them, and they would be flourishing by now. Ari’elle practically ran up the steps to the Main Hall, pushed her way through the two doors and entered the garden. 

It was empty; no one around. Ari’elle stopped for a moment and took a huge breath, slowly releasing it. Some of the persistent tension in her shoulders released, slipping away with the fragrance of herbs and flowers. Opening her eyes she turned to her patch of the garden. Some of them must have bloomed. 

Sure enough, there was a profusion of green plants were once there was only bare dirt. Stalks of tall flowers bobbed in the back, their colors bright against the stone wall, while sprigs of green herbs grew in orderly rows in the front. Ari’elle slipped her bags from her shoulder and settled in front of the plants, her fingers instinctively burying in the dirt. “Hello friends,” Ari’elle whispered to them, gently touching a furled bud.

“Hello Ari’elle,” A quiet voice spoke next to her, and Ari’elle jumped. Cole had suddenly appeared, his mysterious abilities manifesting themselves. 

“Cole,” she smiled at him, a true smile. “You have been taking great care of our plants. They all look healthy.”

“They are happy,” he said, “They tell me if something is wrong.” Ari’elle felt her brows rise, but then shrugged away her surprise. Of course Cole would know something like that. 

“I brought something for you,” Ari’elle reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out the gift he had given her. Cole smiled in delight, both at her words and that she was using the special pouch. “Hold out your hands,” she instructed, then poured the profusion of seeds she had collected into the cupped fingers. 

“So many,” he said wonderingly, staring down at them. “What are they all?” 

Ari’elle shrugged, “Some I am not sure,” she laughed a little. “I just liked how they looked.” She viewed their little patch of garden studiously. “We have run out of room, however. Looks like we will need to find some more.”

Cole nodded sagely, his hat dipping repeatedly over his face. Ari’elle turned back to him, her eyes meeting his. His usually vague look sharpened, and Ari’elle knew then that he saw to her core.

“Broken. You feel broken, Ari’elle.” His blue eyes seemed to bore into hers, reading far more than Ari’elle wanted him to see. “Sorrow and hurt.” He blinked and broke that uncanny connection. “What happened?” 

Jerkily, she stood up, and moved away from him. “Nothing.” She nibbled her lip, then stopped when she realized what she was doing. “It’s nothing anymore,” she whispered. 

Shaking her head, Ari’elle pulled herself from her thoughts. “Oh look!” She cried, far too cheerfully. She would have winced if she wasn’t so determined to be joyful. “The Moon Flowers are just about ready to bloom.” A fixed smile on her face she turned back to where Cole still crouched. “We will have to have a little party when they do. Remember they only open at night?”

Cole’s gaze was too serious, and Ari’elle knew he didn’t buy her act. He blinked once then asked, “Can we have cake?” Ari’elle chuckled, relief spilling through her. He wasn’t going to press. 

A little later, Ari’elle left the gardens, in search of one more person. The tavern was bursting with sound; apparently the party had moved. It was not a surprise, but Ari’elle slowed as she approached it. She really didn’t want to go in with everyone right now. 

“Yo! Ari! Get your butt up here!” Ari’elle jerked her head up and saw Sera half hanging out her window, gesturing wildly.

Ari’elle nodded vigorously, and pushed her way into the tavern. It was so busy and noisy; she found it was easy to remain relatively anonymous, slipping around people and up the stairs. She quickly made her way to Sera’s room, and shut the door behind her.

“Ari!” Sera’s arms wrapped around Ari’elle’s torso and squeezed her too hard and too long. Ari’elle returned the hug, though, uncaring that she couldn’t breathe. It was so nice to feel welcome. 

Sera let go of Ari after the long embrace, setting her back and glaring at her. “You were gone too long! I was so bored! No one appreciates my pranks here.” 

Ari’elle laughed, “What did you do?” 

“Nothing much,” They moved across the room, settling on the cushions. “Perhaps I just painted all of Leliana’s birds some fun colors.” Ari’elle laughed, feeling the core of sadness inside her loosening a little. “And I may have switched some of Dagna’s samples around a bit so that there was an accidental explosion. And allegedly I changed some of the flags to some underpants.” She shook her head dramatically, “No one knows it was me for sure though.”

“Oh yes,” Ari’elle said in mock sincerity, “No one knows what a trouble maker you are. They must have thought it was a group of rambunctious young ones.” Sera stuck out her tongue, a response Ari’elle felt warranted a return reply. 

“So!” Sera rubbed her hands together, looked greedily at the bags Ari’elle had with her. “Whad’ya bring me?”

Ari’elle turned and dropped her things, then scooped up a large structured box, and plopped it on Sera’s lap. Within seconds the wrapping was gone, and Sera was lifting the lid. She riffled around through the delicate paper for a moment before lifting out the largest, most flower, feather, ribbon and even butterfly bedecked hat Ari’elle could find. Sera’s face slowly turned from excitement to confusion to horror, all through which Ari’elle covered her mouth, dying of laughter.

“Wha… what in Andraste’s Holy Knickers is it?” Sera finally puffed out. 

In response Ari’elle plucked it from her unresisting fingers and placed the pink, yellow and purple confection on Sera’s head. “Perfect!” Ari’elle chortled, and dissolved into giggles. 

Sera slowly turned towards the mirror and stared at herself, transfixed by the hat that was about four sizes the size of her head. Her eyes widened even more before she spun, sending the butterfly bouncing and the feathers bobbing. “I’m going to kick your elfy arse!” 

Sometime later the hat was banished back to its box and stuffed in the corner. The mood, which had been fun, turned sober quickly when Sera stopped and stared hard at Ari’elle. “You look like shite.” 

The blunt words jolted Ari’elle out of her mood, calling up all sorts of things she blissfully hadn’t been thinking about. She dropped her eyes to the floor, her fingers clutching together. “I… haven’t been sleeping well,” she babbled out. “Hard to get used to sleeping on pallets again when you have had a bed. And it was a long journey. I just need some sleep, that’s all.” She licked her lips and tried to look convincing.

Sera just crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Nope. It’s something else.” 

Ari’elle stood and crossed to the window overlooking the roof. “Want to go raid the kitchen? I could use some food.”

“It’s him, innit?” Ari’elle stiffened. “Oh, Ari.” Sera sighed behind her. “I told you not to fall in love with a human. They always leave the likes of us.”

Ari. The nickname she had treasured. One Cullen had called her when it was just the two of them, entwined together. The one he didn’t use anymore. 

Ari’elle stared sightlessly out at the gathering night. In love with him? Of course she was in love with Cullen. Sera’s warning the first time had been too late. Ari’elle had been in love with Cullen since she had first seen him. Had loved him since she had seen him fight instead of flee; face a whole pack of demons to protect his people. Every interaction since then, every smile, every talk, every kiss, had just made her love him more. 

But he didn’t love her.

Ari’elle’s lips quivered, a sudden rush of tears choking her. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, dropping her head down. The noise in the tavern seemed to swell even louder, filling the emptiness of the room. 

Ari’elle finally regained control of herself. She deftly swiped at her cheeks, turning away from Sera to her things. “Actually, I’m tired. I’m just going to bed.” She hoisted her packs to her shoulders, keeping her face hidden from her friend. “See you later Sera.” 

“See you tomorrow, Ari,” Sera said behind her. Ari’elle nodded once, then fled. 

Reaching her tower, Ari’elle scrambled up the ladder quickly, finally alone. She breathed deeply in the dark, feeling the emotions she had kept under control for so long now breaking free. She turned abruptly and scrambled to the roof.

She made her way across the broken beams, her eyes fixed on Cullen’s room. Perhaps… perhaps now that they were back at Skyhold, he would talk to her. Her heart leapt when she saw the lights on in his room. If she could just get his attention…

Dusk gave way to night before Cullen came to his balcony. Ari’elle felt her love, her longing, course through her at the sight of his shadow. She watched as he opened the glass doors, and settled his arms against the stone railing. He wasn’t wearing his mantle, she saw, tracing her eyes over the darkness of his shoulders. He was relaxed, at home. He always looked the most handsome like that, a gentle smile on his lips, his hair disheveled and curling over his brow. She wished she was there with him. He would put his arms around her; hold her tight against his body. The scruffy stubble of his chin would catch on her hair as he kissed the top of her head. Together they would stand looking over Skyhold and cherish the peace and love they felt holding each other.

Aching with longing for the pretty picture she had painted for herself, Ari’elle made ready to stand and wave. If she caught his attention like she had before, he would come to her. He had to.

Behind him, in the brilliant light of his bedroom, someone moved. Someone crossed in the light, and Cullen stood and turned and walked back inside. He shut the door firmly behind him, shut Ari’elle out.

Ari’elle collapsed to the wood, her heart breaking all over again. In her entire time with the Inquisition, no one had been allowed into Cullen’s bedroom. He had never invited her there. And yet, that petite, golden figure in the candle light of his refuge could have only been one person. Evangelina.

Ari’elle shivered in the night air, and didn’t even look once at the stars.


	35. Chapter 35

Cullen blinked heavily at the papers strewn over his desk and stared at the words. They still didn’t make much sense to him, but every time he read through it again, they became a little clearer. Right. Supply issues. There had been a surge in recruitment volunteers, and they need to increase the amount of armor they currently produced. Which meant they needed to add more blacksmiths. Which meant he needed to assign someone to ask all the new recruits if anyone already had the skills or decide those that would work well.

Cullen sat back in his chair and wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead. He was so warm; the summer temperatures were really hitting him today. All the balcony doors had been opened to allow the breeze to flow through his tower room, and he sat in only light trousers and a linen shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. But he was still too warm. His hair curled with the humidity, disarranged from his usual care.

Forcing his mind back to his problem, Cullen sluggishly sorted through people who would be able to ask the new recruits. Why was this so difficult? Obstinately Cullen furrowed his brow and slowly went through his list. There were… three people who fit best. Two were full with their own duties, which meant that left only one. Pleased, Cullen leaned back to his paperwork.

Before he wrote down the name, though, he stopped and frowned. Maker, that had been such a simple task. Why had it taken him, his eyes flicked to the timepiece on his desk, almost ten minutes to reason that out? What was wrong with him?

Yesterday evening, Leliana and Josephine had pulled him into the war room, their faces grave. 

“Cullen,” Josephine had started diplomatically, “We know that you have been preoccupied with our trip to Denerim, and your subsequent…” Josephine hesitated for a moment, and Leliana jumped in.

“Your new requirement and conquest, Lady Trevelyan.” Although there was a hint of teasing in her voice Cullen had registered the hard and serious tone underneath. “However, you have been neglecting your duties.”

Cullen had frowned and opened his mouth to protest. Lady Trevelyan was not a conquest. She was a harbinger of the Maker and of Andraste herself. No one so distinguished could ever so crudely be categorized as a conquest. 

“It has been four days since your return, and I have not received a single report or documents from you.” Josephine cut him off before he could rely.

That had made Cullen freeze. Four days since they had returned? Cullen had shaken his head and thought back. No, surely that was wrong… it had just been a short time. A cold sweat had broken out down his back as he pushed through his memories. The days had passed so quickly for him, and he… he didn’t really remember what had transpired in the previous four days.

“Alright,” Cullen had croaked out, his heart thudding uncomfortably, “I am sorry. I will redouble my efforts; focus on my paperwork and get you as much as I can in the next day. Tell Captain Rylen I will leave training the new recruits to him tomorrow.” Leliana and Josephine had shared a look of confusion, but said nothing.

Cullen had promptly left them and gone to his room. There he sent word to Evangelina that he would have to miss dinner with her that night, and he would be too busy to spend time with her for short while.

A clatter of noises from down in the courtyard turned his attention away from the past, and Cullen didn’t notice the drop of ink fall onto his report. Training was underway. A surge of energy filled him, and he half stood in his chair before he stopped himself. Right, Rylen was taking care of it. He had his duties to paperwork today. The new recruits could accept new leadership for a day or two.

But, Cullen frowned, wait. Had he worked with them yesterday? He dropped his quill and rubbed both hands at his temples. Searching back into his memory, his head throbbed unbearably. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and sucked in a breath. When had he last worked with his troops?

A vague memory arose of him announcing to the group he would be leaving for a few weeks. And then… nothing. Cold clutched at his chest. Had that been the last time he had stood before them all? Had he not been training with them the past couple days he had been back? Not a couple of days, he corrected himself unbelieving, a full four days. Now five. 

Cullen jerkily dropped his hands and picked up his quill, hastily scrawling the name on the report. It came out sloppy, almost illegible. He stared down at his words, and slowly looked over to his other finished reports. They were equally as difficult to read. His heart pounding, he moved his gaze to his hand.

His fingers were trembling. Cullen gulped and dropped the quill, spreading both hands out in the air before him. Involuntary tremors were racing down his arms, his fingers jerking slightly. Cold sweat broke out under his armpits and on his upper lip. No, Cullen realized, he had already been sweating. And his head pounding, his memory absent.

Terror tore through him. He recognized these symptoms. 

Cullen leapt from his chair, it clattered to the ground behind him, and he raced to the little chest of drawers in his changing room. Frantically he fell to his knees and clawed at the lower drawer, ripping it open and pawed through the clothing there. At the very bottom was a little box. He yanked it out and fiddled with the clasp. 

Opening it, Cullen revealed his Templar philter and the glowing bottle of lyrium. Cullen gulped and stared down at it. After a long, unbreathing moment, he closed his eyes, letting out a shaking breath.

Untouched. He hadn’t touched it. He hadn’t succumbed.

The box slid from his suddenly numb fingers, falling back onto the never worn clothing in his drawer. 

A wild tempest of emotions jerked Cullen every which way. But it was relief that brought the press of tears to his eyes. Cullen gulped in greedy breaths, feeling the adrenaline race through his system, causing him to tremble even more than he had been. 

A surge of anger snapped his eyes open, and he glared down at the little box. It looked so innocuous, just a little thing, the lyrium glowing a pretty blue. And yet the contents had brought him nothing but pain. He had lost so much to the vile substance: years, friendships, family, even his chance at redemption.

No longer. 

He grabbed the box up, snapping it shut, and practically ran across the room to the balcony. Staring out at the pristine snow on the mountains and valley far below, Cullen hurled the box into the abyss with all his might.

Cullen watched the little box fly through the air, falling, until he couldn’t see it anymore. A pressure lifted from his shoulders, and a crazy little laugh bubbled from his chest. 

He wished Ari could have seen that. 

The thought drew him up short. Ari? He gave his head a little shake. No, Ari’elle. And it shouldn’t be Ari’elle who he immediately thought of. It should be Evangelina. She was the one who would fully appreciate what he had just done. The Herald of Andraste would love to hear of this.

_Ari knows more of what you have been through,_ a little voice told him. _She would be so proud of you overcoming your past. Finding the strength to relinquish this last tie._

Cullen spun on his heels and headed back inside. A little bubble of anger tried push its way up, but Cullen firmly suppressed it.

Ever since he had learned of Ari’elle’s deception, it felt like he just couldn’t even look at her. Every time he did, an unnatural anger tried to grip him. It felt… almost outside of himself. 

At least, he felt anger every time he was awake. While he was asleep… that was entirely different. He still dreamt of her constantly, Cullen realized. He frowned, thinking about it. How come he had not remembered that until just now? Just this morning he had awoken aching, memories of their night on the roof replaying through his dreams. As soon as he had awoken, though, the knowledge of dreaming it had disappeared. 

A pang went through his chest. He had dreamt of her in passion, or he dreamt of her crying. The nightmare was a mix of the night he held her in his arms as she cried for the life she had taken and of the night he had yelled at her. Only, the second time he hadn’t seen her cry. He had seen her rigid back and bowed head, had known she was, but she had hidden it from him. The empty pain on her face. 

Had he seen her since they got back? Cullen frowned, sludging through the days. No, he realized. She and Varric had not been having their lessons in the Main Hall. He hadn’t seen her eating there either. Or maybe that was because he sometimes took meals up here with Evangelina. He hadn’t seen her in the training yards, but maybe that was because he hadn’t been there the past few days.

_What was Ari doing?_

Ari’elle, he corrected himself firmly.

The sound of his door opening jerked his head around. Light footsteps started up the steps, and Cullen snapped back from his memories. He realized he was standing in the middle of the room, had been staring hard at his carpet. A grip of panic sent him scurrying back to his desk, righting his chair and settling down into it. He picked up his quill and looked as if he were hard at work. 

For some reason, he didn’t want Evangelina to know what he had been doing. He wasn’t going to tell her about the philter.

A golden halo surrounding a beautiful smiling face broke above the stairs, Evangeline’s light steps bringing her into his room. “Cullen,” she smiled warmly, dropping the front of her skirt as she finished climbing. Clad in a crystalline blue the same color as her eyes, she looked a vision of perfection. “I know you are busy, but,” her eyelashes fanned over her cheeks as she looked down, a rosy blush highlighting her cheekbones, “I missed you.” Creamy pearls encircled her elegant throat, little pearl earrings swayed from her movements. 

She brought Andraste’s Holy Light to life, Cullen thought. He stood and met her half way, their hands twining. She was tiny, even smaller than Ari.

_Ari fit against you perfectly,_ that small voice whispered, _Evangelina is too short. Ari is perfect kissing height._

Cullen shook the voice from his head, and instead focused on Evangelina. Her eyes were bright and happy, a serene smile on her pink lips. Cullen watched as she fluttered her lashes faintly, looking down and back up at him. Her lips parted slightly, awaiting him.

Cullen gently clasped her hands and brought them to his lips, reverently brushing a kiss along her knuckles. For a moment, Evangelina’s lips twisted into a frown before smoothing into a smile once more. Cullen thought that she wanted him to kiss her, but she was far too demure to ask him. He forced a smile to his lips. She was hand chosen by Andraste herself, picked to help guide them all to a more glorious future. He couldn’t defile her with such base things as earthly lust. 

Not that he lusted after her; it would be so offensive. He would never do anything to besmirch her Holy Reverence. She was… beyond such crass notions as lust. Every evening went to their little Chantry, and he prayed to the Maker and Andraste to thank them for sending her to their unworthy world. For sending her to the unworthy him.

_You never had to make excuses like that when you were with Ari,_ that smug voice told him. _Tell yourself the truth._

“Cullen?” Evangelina’s voice shook him from his short daze. “Are you alright?” Gently she extracted her hand and laid one on his forehead. “You really do not look all that well.” Concern for him made her all the lovelier, and Cullen tried to banished the voice. She was all that was perfect in this world.

_If Evangelina is so perfect for you, why do you still desire Ari?_ The voice asked him, not going away. _Think man! Just think!_

“I am alright, my Herald,” he smiled down at her assuring. “It was just warm in here.”

She looked at all the windows and doors that would stood open. “It is quite pleasant in here,” she said doubtfully. She extracted her hands and walked over to his water jug. Cullen sat heavily on the bed, all at once realizing his pulse was still racing, his heart thundering, and he was still trembling. He was not fully recovered from his adrenaline rush. And, he realized with a sinking feeling, he felt like he was going through the effects of lyrium withdrawal.

Although he had not taken lyrium himself, was someone slipping him some? Who could do such a thing? His food was prepared in the kitchens, and he supposed at any point from there to where he ate it could be tampered with. He would need to discuss it with Leliana.

Evangelina poured the crystal clear water into a cup and brought it to him. “Here. Drink this.” She commanded gently, pressing it into his hands. 

For a moment Cullen hesitated. Could Evangelina have done it? Could she have slipped something into his water?

_It’s possible._ The voice sounded as if it were mulling over the question.

A vicious headache instantly pounded from his skull, radiating pain down his whole body. Cullen closed his eyes and quickly drank the cool water, feeling it combat the throbbing of his head and easing him. He sighed gratefully. What nonsense he had been thinking. Evangelina was as close to the Maker as any mortal; he was just disoriented and confused. 

Evangelina sank gracefully onto the bed next to him, her small hand smoothing gentle circles on his back as he collected himself. “I know you are busy Cullen, but maybe you need a short break? Just a few minutes. Come walk with me along the ramparts. Perhaps staying cooped up and sitting in here working on reports have given you a headache.”

He sighed, feeling marginally better. “Perhaps you are right.” He turned his head and smiled down at her worried face. He brushed his fingers along her jaw. “Exercise might just be the key I need.” They stood, and Cullen offered his arm to her gallantly, basking in the glowing smile she bestowed on him.

They started towards the steps when a sudden thought occurred to him. Along the ramparts. If they walked all the way, they would cross through Ari’s tower. Ari’elle’s tower, he corrected himself. Would she be there? Would she and Varric be working on lessons in his old office? Perhaps they should go somewhere else. 

The gardens! A beautiful backdrop for his lady. Except… Ari’elle and Cole were there frequently, tending to their little patch of soil that was growing so well. The courtyards, Cullen grasped, he could take a look at the troops. But he mentally discarded the thought. Even if Ari’elle was not there training herself, she and Sera frequently watched over the training practices. Perhaps the stables? Ari’elle loved to spend time with Imperial, she could be there. Cullen pushed away the warm feeling that brought on. He was just being fanciful.

_Have you ever seen Evangelina care for anyone?_ The voice asked with a hard edge.

Me! He told the voice. Then promptly felt ridiculous for talking to himself, albeit only mentally. Cullen pulled himself together.

“Instead of the ramparts, may we instead go to the kitchens?” Ari’elle did spend some time there, but considerably less than anywhere else he could think of at this moment. Chances are he would not see her there.

“The kitchens?” Evangelina looked up at him in puzzled aversion. Her smile returned with a teasing slant, “It is not very romantic, Cullen.”

“Uh, I’m hungry,” Cullen grasped. And he supposed he should be. He actually couldn’t recall the last time he had eaten. Some time yesterday, most likely. But the indications of lyrium withdrawal didn’t leave much feeling for hunger. Instead the idea of food made him a little nauseous. He could drink another whole pitcher of water, his thirst was so great, but food was not high on his list of things to consume. From past experience, however, if he could keep food down it would eventually help get rid of some of his symptoms. “I just think food would be a good thing for me right now.”

Evangelina’s hands, resting delicately on his forearm, tightened in an affectionate squeeze. “Then to the kitchens it is!” She laughed gently, “Maybe they will have some decent tea today.”

A rush of annoyance filled him for a moment. Skyhold was a castle, true, but they did not cater to such unimportant whims of the selfish aristocracy or nobility. The Inquisition was first and foremost a peacekeeping army. They served their people first; such trivial things as tea were far below most everyone’s priorities.

A wave of dizziness pulsed at his temples seconds later. Maker, what was wrong with him? What was with his tempers? Evangelina was just trying to coax him from his bad mood. She was trying to help him feel better; he enjoyed tea too. Didn’t he?

The slowly descended the stairs and entered the Main Hall. All around him guest and ambassadors greeted him and the Herald of Andraste with utmost respect. Pride filled him as they were stopped one by one, happy to listen to the words of praise heaped on them.

“Such a lovely couple. Love at first sight, so they say.” He overheard, “The Herald has brought such a dignified air to the Inquisitor, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Cullen gritted his teeth as another upsurge of anger rose in him. Why would he need a dignified air? He was the commander of an army! What did ‘dignified air’ mean anyways? Who cared what these silly people thought. He should be out with his men, not sucking up to these people!

Evangelina’s tinkling laugh broke through his anger, and he felt himself relax once more. He pasted a smile on his face, but he could feel his worry knot his guts. 

What was happening to him? He was losing his mind. It seemed like no matter what he did, he was fighting with himself. Fighting the mysterious lyrium withdrawals, the pull of his addiction. Getting irrationally angry over nothing. Fighting with himself about Ari. 

Ari’elle! Exasperation filled him that he could not seem to stop saying her nickname. Mistress Lavellan, Cullen decided with a nod. It was the only way he could think of to put that barrier back in place. He had revealed far too much about himself to her. 

That unnatural anger tried to surface again. He had become far too intimate with someone who he truly knew nothing about. After all, she had just shown up with this perfect magical solution to his problems; he should have been more suspicious. And he now knew she had lied to him. He couldn’t trust her.

Cullen shoved the anger away, feeling confused. Where was it coming from? Of course he couldn’t trust her on such a personal level anymore. But he could trust her with the Inquisition. She had proven that. 

Perhaps… perhaps at some point he should apologize to her? He had made some very harsh accusations during their last talk, had even almost put her under watch, as if she were a prisoner. But she hadn’t ever tried to speak with him alone after that night. She had the whole journey back from Denerim to say something to him, and she hadn’t. Cullen thought back and frowned. In fact, he couldn’t remember seeing her at all past the first day. She must be avoiding him.

A sharp stabbing pang made him suck in a breath. _Ari did try,_ the voice whispered, _you just didn’t listen. She doesn’t deserve this._

Evangelina must have felt him stiffen, for she turned up her face to him and frowned. She slowly moved her hand back and forth on his arm, comforting him.

Shortly they were on their way once again. And once again hailed by another set of diplomats. Slowly, insidiously, Cullen slipped into a relaxed social role. 

_You hate this stuff! Hate The Game!_ The voice yelled, but Cullen ignored it. 

An easy and calming haze slowly settled over him. Held him dazed, in its sway before he realized what was happening. And then it was too late to fight it. 

“No!” He called out, but the word never made it past the perfect smile on his lips. Cullen thrashed, but his body was locked into a relaxed pose, his hand covering the glowing Anchor of Evangelina’s hand, intimately nestled in the crook of his arm. 

“Nooo!” He screamed at the same time as the voice, and Cullen realized something. The voice that had been talking to him all day was… him. The rational and real part of Cullen locked away in the recesses of his mind. He had been trying to get himself to see the truth. He needed to break free of this effect, this spell! 

He fought fiercely against the drugging mist, terrified as all his efforts failed. It slid closer and closer no matter what he did. He was losing to it. 

Calming himself, Cullen concentrated, pulling deep from his willpower. Hastily thinking, he envisioned a barrier spell around himself. The mist crept ever closer, but it knocked against the mental barrier and stopped. 

Exhilarated, Cullen closed his eyes and pushed with all his will outwards. And he broke free from whatever it was.

Cullen’s eyes snapped open, and he drew in a ragged, gulping breath. He was himself, he realized with shock. He was alone in his body, his mind truly clear for the first time in days. Weeks, he realized with fear. Nausea filled him; what was going on? This was not just from being on lyrium or from lyrium withdrawal. There was something much darker at play here.

Evangelina looked up to him again, concern on her features. “Cullen?” She asked uncertainly.

Inside of himself, Cullen felt a battering ram pound against his mind. And all of the sudden he was back inside the mist, inside his scant protection. The mist had solidified around him, had become stronger and more dangerous. Once more it reeled back and shattered his shield.

Cullen saw himself smile warmly down at Evangeline. “It’s nothing, my Herald,” he spoke, and someone sighed at the romantic picture they painted with their heads close together, their eyes locked, lost to anyone else in the world. 

No! He screamed in horror once more, but the mist didn’t even pause as it enveloped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm just curious... who still hates Cullen? :D
> 
> I'm evil, soooo evil.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay everyone. I wrote the chapter last week... but it was poopy. So I took a short break, then completely retried it. It went much better this time! Hope you enjoy it!

As soon as Ari’elle heard the footsteps descending the stone stairs, she knew who it was. She closed her eyes and steadied herself, preparing for this meeting. She had come into the unused chamber through the kitchens, thinking to avoid anyone by using the back way to Josephine’s office. Most of those who came this way were discrete and busy; too wrapped up in their own tasks to talk to one who was slipping through.

Apparently Cullen, though, needed to be the one she ran into in this dusty and deserted cavern.

Sure enough, it was Cullen’s familiar red overcoat with the soft fur around the collar that revealed itself first. He was looking at the ground, intent on his feet. He did not see her, and for the blissful moments before he did, Ari’elle drank him in.

His face looked a little pale, smudges beneath his eyes. He had always had deep set eyes, but they looked especially… dark today. Was he getting enough sleep? Despite that, though, he looked very fine. His hair was immaculately arranged, his clothes more tidy and put together than usual. The metal on his armor gleamed in the low candlelit and the brilliant reds offset the dense black. He looked, Ari’elle wistfully thought, exactly like the perfect Inquisitor from the Denerim ball. 

Just then he looked up and saw her. She felt the impact of his amber eyes down to her toes, a tingling wave of awareness and heat. It was always the same when she saw him. But as she saw Cullen freeze, a façade descending over his face, she knew it wasn’t the same for him. Not anymore.

Several thudding heartbeats passed before she could open her mouth. “Cullen,” she finally got out, his name sounded strange as she pushed it out through the lump in her throat. 

He nodded coolly and returned her greeting, “Ari’elle.” And then, as if that were all that was left to say between them, he looked beyond her and started walking.

Shocked, she just blinked as he moved past her side. His indifference… hurt. Snapping out of it, Ari’elle spun around, “Wait!”

A rush of relief passed through her as he did and then almost reluctantly turned back to her. He still looked at her with that blank mask, but now there was a hint of impatience in his eyes, as if she were a total stranger imposing themselves on him. “I, uh…” Ari’elle swallowed hard, and dug deep into her courage. If he were here, she might as well tell him what she had been on her way to talk to Josephine about. “I have decided something.” She took a steading breath, “I’m leaving.”

For a moment, there was a flicker in the amber depths of Cullen’s eyes, and Ari’elle took an involuntary step forward. What had that meant? Did he feel something when she said she was leaving? But she didn’t know; it could have been relief she had seen. Casting her eyes on the column of stone behind Cullen’s shoulder, she forced herself to continue. 

“There are two Anchors now, and it doesn’t make sense for them both to be here. I thought I would travel into Orlais, to the Inquisition keep in the Western Approach, or perhaps to the one in Emprise du Lion.” Ari’elle thought it unlikely Lady Trevelyan would want to travel so far away from him. Not that she wanted to either, but there was little left for her here. “There are probably many Rifts that need closing, and it would be best for me to… Lady Trevelyan would be centrally situated here. So it would be for the best,” Ari’elle repeated. The best for all of them, although she didn’t want it to be that way.

A heavy silence thickened in the room, stretching out for so long Ari’elle became nervous. Did he not like the idea? Was he still suspicious of her, so much so that he didn’t want to let her leave Skyhold? Finally she could stand it no more.

She looked at him, and instantly her questions vanished. Cullen was practically vibrating, he was so tense. His fists were white with pressure as he held them at his sides, his shoulders almost brittle stiff. But it was his expressions that made her worried. A rapid play of emotions were being chased across his features. Anger, then confusion, sadness, and lastly fear. “Cullen,” Ari’elle couldn’t bear to see him like that. She had never seen him scared before. “What is it?” She stepped into him, raising her hand up to his face, “What is wrong?”

Just before she touched him, Cullen’s eyes snapped to her hand, and he violently jerked himself away. A physical wound would have not hurt as much as the emotional one she received from revulsion on his face; the sheer horror that now filled his eyes. Ari’elle couldn’t prevent the half cry that broke from her lips, but she whirled around before he could see how badly his rejection had hurt her. She pressed her lips together and wrapped her arms around her waist. She wasn’t going to cry, she breathed in shakily. She wasn’t going to cry in front of him.

“I agree with your idea.” His voice sounded calm and controlled; as if whatever he had just been experiencing was nothing. Obviously it had been nothing in his eyes. 

Ari’elle blinked, her heart sinking. She admitted that that was not the response she had wanted from him. In her secret romantic fantasies, he had declared she could never leave him, then swept her into his arms and kissed her. But with the way he had been behaving recently, she had known it was a useless hope. She had tried to banish it, but she couldn’t have stopped it any more than she could have stopped loving him. 

This is for the best, she steeled herself. This is for the best.

“Speak with Josephine, she will arrange things.” His voice rumbled through the chamber. Ari’elle nodded and practically ran to the stairs. She didn’t look back. 

***

Cullen watched the tumble of brown curls leave, little flowers woven through the strands. Her tear filled eyes came back to him, made his chest ache. He had done this to her. He had caused her pain, and because of it she was leaving Skyhold.

No!

Cullen went to follow her, and pain exploded in his head. He fell into a crouch, fingers digging into his scalp. Cullen sucked in air, feeling as if he were being dashed against the stones. Maker, he was going mad. There was something wrong with him. Ever since…

When Ari’elle had reached for him, it hadn’t been her. In that second, it had been Evangelina about to touch his face. And he had revolted against that violently. He absolutely hadn’t wanted that woman to touch him, had felt physically sick at the thought. 

Which was crazy, he shook his head. He worshiped Evangelina; he would do anything for her. She was all that was good in this world, all that was pure.

Ari’elle’s shocked expression, the hurt he had so obviously caused her bore into his memory, and his heart twisted. No. This was not him. He didn’t go around callously hurting people anymore. He had changed.

Which was why Ari’elle’s plan made perfect sense. The calm realization slowly overtook the panic and fear swirling in his body. Instinctively, Cullen fought against the drugging haze slipping through his veins, slowing his pulse to a more natural rhythm. But in a few minutes he was back to himself again, realizing it was not harming him, it was actually helping.

Cullen slowly released his death grip on his own head and stood up. Yes, Ari’elle’s plan to move to one of the other Keep’s was a good one. She had experience closing Rifts; it would be intelligent to use her capabilities to work through Orlais. Evangelina would stay here, safe, out of harm’s way. When she felt ready, Cullen and an armed escort would travel into Ferelden. Evangelina needed much more protection, her safety was far too important to risk.

After all, she was the Herald of Andraste. She was going to save them all from the Breach.

A frown broke through his calm, his head shaking. But a second later that bubble of rebellion was washed away, and he was steady once more.

Cullen closed his eyes again and tried to clear his mind. There were so many conflicting thoughts in his head, he couldn’t take it. 

Thirsty, he was really thirst. He needed water.

“Cullen!” Josephine’s voice snapped his eyes open, and he blinked down at her in surprise. Then confusion. Slowly he looked around the room. He was in Josephine’s office, and she and Leliana were looking at him in expectation. 

Confused fear snaked through him before he shook it off. Obviously he had just followed Ari’elle up here; to finalize arrangements. “Where is Ari’elle?” She wasn’t in the ambassador’s office. Had Ari’elle not spoken to Josephine after all?

“She was here this morning,” Leliana studied him. “She told us of her plan. And of your agreement to it.”

This morning? But it still was the morning! Slowly, Cullen realized that the light coming into the room was that of the late afternoon. And his stomach was full; at some point lately he had eaten. 

How many times had this happened to him recently? Completing things he didn’t remember doing, carrying on conversations he couldn’t recall just hours after speaking them. What had he said and done this time? Would he be able to dredge through his memories and find the answers? 

“Are you really okay with Ari’elle leaving?” Josephine asked him gently, her dark eyes searching his.

A crystal clear vision punched him in the gut, blasting through the fog. Ari’elle’s face crumpled, tears gathered in her brown eyes. Their conversation came back to him slowly. Abruptly he felt nauseous. Had he really agreed to this? Practically sent her away?

But it made perfect sense, he rationalized. Ari’elle had been the one to suggest it, and Cullen approved of the practicality. His mind calmed; his body easing. 

Cullen pulled himself back to the present, nodding his head. “It is a good solution for the Inquisition.” 

The two friends shared a look before Josephine spoke carefully, “At one point, we had discussed the importance of you making a political match. The idea being that it would gain much ground for the Inquisition.” 

Cullen shrugged his shoulders. What was her point in this? She continued, “However, we let the issue slide when we realized that you and Ari’elle… well, it is no longer needed. The Inquisition is in good standing now. You do not need to make such an alliance unless you truly wish it. If you and the Lady Trevelyan-“

“The Herald of Andraste,” Cullen corrected automatically.

Josephine pressed her lips together for a moment before continuing. “We had just thought that you and Ari’elle were…” 

Cullen frowned fiercely, an anger welling in him. He and Ari’elle hadn’t been anything! A sudden image of Ari’elle grinning wickedly up at him as she knelt between his knees, his cock in her hand, burst through the anger. Of course they had been something. He lo-

A massive pain battered at the front of his skull, and Cullen groaned, pressing his hands to his eyes. He breathed deeply, kept his mind clear. In a short time he felt the throbbing fade, but he couldn’t remember what he had just been thinking about. 

“Cullen? Cullen!” He realized Leliana was looking at him with distinct concern. When she saw him blink at her blearily, she asked, “Are you alright? You have been acting strangely for a while now.” 

“Yes,” he fumbled out, still feeling slightly disoriented. But they couldn’t know. He wasn’t acting strangely; he felt like he was actually going crazy. Fear burned in him. They couldn’t know, couldn’t guess just how out of it he really was. They would want him to step down from being Inquisitor. 

A foreign feeling rose in him. He couldn’t give up such a high ranking position. He needed to be in charge. He was the one leading this army; he was the one commanding the troops and the respect of nations. He wouldn’t give it up. 

“I have just been having some headaches recently. I think it is because I have not been drinking enough water.” Cullen crossed to the decanter by the fireplace, filling up a glass and drinking it all down. He refilled it and returned to his spot. “What were you saying before?” He raised his eyebrows and looked down at Josephine, trying to appear for all intents and purposes as if he hadn’t just drifted off into his own mind. 

“Well,” she hesitated. “We just wanted to say that there is no need for you to woo Lady- I mean, the Herald of Andraste if that is not your wish. But if you love her…”

Love Evangelina? “I worship her,” Cullen told them; it should explain it all. 

He turned and left the office, sipping from the water, and he missed the confused looks Leliana and Josephine shared.

***

“So, when we goin’?” 

Ari’elle started in surprise and looked at were Sera was seated next to her, her legs waving crazily in the air above the tavern door. Raucous noise echoed out into the night, but she and Sera were alone.

“We? You are coming with me?” Ari’elle couldn’t help her astonishment.

“’Course!” Sera rolled her eyes. “You’re shite at thinking up pranks. More like to make friends with your victims. That’s dumb. They are target, Ari. Targets. Not possible friends.” Sera made grand sweeping gestures with her hands and fingers, and Ari’elle supposed that they were all movements associated with pulling pranks. She didn’t really understand them, but that was because Sera was playing things out in her head. “First, splat! Then, sploosh! Some screams, then we laugh, then after all that, you can ‘be nice’.” She pulled a face, letting Ari’elle know what her real feelings were about it.

Ari’elle chuckled a little, thankful for the reprieve from her desolation. “Targets first, then friends, huh? I will remember that.”

Ari’elle wrapped her arms around her drawn up knees, smelling the scent of lavender she had made into a circlet now lying at her side. She didn’t much feel like putting it on; it had just been something to do with her hands. She would miss the garden, Ari’elle sighed. The herbs were at the point where most of them could be harvested. And the flowers were growing so well. Her Moon Flower vines had flourished, the buds ready to pop. Any night now they would open. But she wouldn’t be around to see it.

“So, when we goin’?” Sera repeated her question, and Ari’elle shook herself.

“Right. Josephine said that there would be a group of soldiers heading out to Griffon’s Keep in a few days. Two or three.”

Sera let out a large belch, and it echoed through the stone courtyard. Within a moment, another belch came from the darkness, rivaling hers in loudness. Sera got up and cheered, and Ari’elle heard the laughter of several soldiers making their patrols. 

The faint smile on her lips faded; Creator’s she would miss this. Skyhold had become a home to her. When she had been with her clan, she hadn’t realized just how wonderful it could be to have a real place to come back to, one that would always be there. Despite the fact that she had spent more time out closing Rifts and traveling than at Skyhold itself, the castle had come to mean so much to her. But it would never be the same.

Would he ever miss her? Ari’elle felt the tears welling again, burning her throat. His handsome and beloved face would never look at her the same as it used to. She knew it. His eyes wouldn’t darken in passion; she wouldn’t touch his bare skin and feel his warmth. No more laughter for her, no more feeling cherished as he held her close.

Despite it all, though, she couldn’t regret her decision to alter the course of her life. Ari’elle traced down her _vallaslin_. Supposedly she had been chosen by Andruil for great things; well, she had chosen her own course. And it had led her to her to many great things. She never would have made such great friends. Never would have discovered the strength within herself, her will to fight for others, to help when she could. She had discovered so much of the world, perhaps even coming close to Keeper Solas’s knowledge of it.

And despite the fact that it hurt, she couldn’t regret falling in love with Cullen. She hugged the memories of them together to her heart. She didn’t want to forget them. Perhaps someday she could view them without the pain, without the hopeless longing. But they were still precious to her.

Ari’elle felt fragile, felt like she would burst into tears at any second. “Sera, I’m just going to…” She cleared her throat. “I need a little time to get ready. I’ll come find you tomorrow when… when I am ready,” She finished lamely. When she was done crying over everything, would be a more accurate description, but she didn’t want to tell Sera that.

A bubble of… something rose in her, but it popped before she could really distinguish what it was. Determination? Fear? Anger? Ari’elle shoved it aside and returned to her tower, curled up in bed, and slept.

***

When she opened her eyes, she was in a forest. In bewilderment, Ari’elle slowly pushed herself to a stand, spinning slowly. She was in a clearing, and after a second she recognized it. It was the clearing where she had camped with her clan last.

With dawning dread, Ari’elle looked down at herself. She was wearing her Dalish garb, everything perfectly immaculate. Ari’elle brought her hands up to her hair. Yes, her curls were in perfect little ringlets, arrayed with perfect flowers in perfect arrangements.

She closed her eyes. She recognized this, recognized the dream. This is how her whole adventure started. Waking up in this clearing, following the owls that were not truly her owl friends but for some reason she had thought they were. Then she had met Corypheus, and he had bestowed on her the Anchor.

Only now she knew the truth about him. Knew that he was evil, the corrupted magister behind all of the current troubles in the world. 

Ari’elle took a deep breath. Another bubble rose in her, and this time she let herself feel it. Fight. It was fight. 

Ari’elle’s eyes snapped open, and she licked her lip, touching her _vallaslin_. Determination replaced her fear, replaced the sadness. She reached up with both hands and vigorously ran her fingers through her hair. She shook her head, making sure that her curls twisted and tangled, that the arrangements of flowers were disrupted. More than half of the perfect blooms fell out, the others became snared tighter. Ari’elle swooped down to the dirt beneath her feet, and she scooped some up, smearing it along her clothes and hands, even streaking some across her face.

Feeling much more like herself, much more in control of the ‘dream’, Ari’elle looked around. Sure enough, four snowy white owls watched her from the branches high above her head.

“Well?” She said in exasperation, “Lead on.”

The owls flew away, and Ari’elle raced after them. She noted the same strange way they flew; all sets of wings moving at the same time, the same almost too slow rhythm. They made their way to the heart of the forest again, the woods clearing out instead of growing denser.

And then the trees stopped, the owls disappeared, and once more the very tall mage stood alone. This time he faced her, his arms crossed over his chest.

Ari’elle gulped, fear threading through her. But she raised her chin and briskly strode to him. “Corypheus.”

“Ari’elle.” His strange and ancient eyes roved over her. “You have learned much while on your adventure,” his tone was condescending. “But not nearly enough.”

Ari’elle gritted her teeth. “What do you want? Why am I here?”

Fury flashed across Corypheus’s face before settling back into cool disdain. “Such disrespect for the one who helped you achieve you dreams.” Ari’elle kept her lips pressed together. “Do you not remember our terms for this deal? I would give you one task, and if you do not achieve it, you will return to me.”

“I remember,” Ari’elle saw where this was going. She had to complete the task; otherwise she was as good as dead. Spend a year in Corypheus’s services? She saw what he did to those who followed him, willingly or unwillingly. Savage beasts possessed of red lyrium. Their only thought was of doing what the people who owned them commanded. She didn’t want to end up that way, mindless. There was no question that it was a death sentence. “What do you want me to do?”

“It is simple, really.” He smiled, and Ari’elle felt a wave of revulsion hit her. “All you must do is kill Lady Evangelina Trevelyan, The Herald of Andraste.”

Ari’elle’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t help it. Kill Lady Evangelina? But why?

The answer came to her quickly. Lady Evangelina was supposed to save the world from Corypheus. Of course he would want her dead. 

“Just think of it,” Suddenly Corypheus was behind her, leaning to her ear, his voice oily as he whispered. “With her gone, Cullen Rutherford will be available again. He will be free for you, free for you two to be as you were. The man you love would not be in love with her anymore. You two could be together once more, beneath the stars.”

Ari’elle sat stunned, his words washing over her. Cullen would be free. She licked her lips, her eyes unseeing. If Evangelina was gone, would Cullen fall in love with her this time? Would they be like they were before, friends and lovers? Would she at least then have a chance?

For a long moment, Ari’elle yearned to agree, to say that she would. But she couldn’t. She let out a shuddering breath and shook her head. “No,” she whispered. No, she couldn’t. She couldn’t kill the woman Cullen loved. She could never hurt him.

His words sank in. He knew what she and Cullen had done, what they had been to each other. Abruptly she felt nauseous. Her time with Cullen had been precious and beautiful. How dare he! Then she became extremely angry at this man who tried to be a God.

“No! I won’t murder someone for you!” She spun and retreated, gaining distance between them. She was trembling, her hands flexing with the wish to lash out.

For a moment, Corypheus’s body shimmered, and she saw again the red lyrium growing from his body, his features distorted and blacked. He regained control of himself and the illusion, and he sneered down at her. “Then you will return to me immediately.”

“And if I don’t?” Ari’elle raised her brows at him, crossed her arms over her chest.

He smiled smugly. “You won’t have a choice.” He waved his arm once, then the world around her swirled. The ground became a funnel, and Ari’elle cried out as she was sucked down into it.

Ari’elle gasped as she sat up in her own bed, her body drenched in sweat. Shakily she rubbed her face, gathering her bearings. The dream that was not truly a dream remained with her vividly. She refused to kill Evangelina. 

Slowly, Ari’elle realized her hand, the hand with the Anchor, seemed to be humming. Slowly she raised it up and stared at it. It didn’t hurt, Ari’elle thought, it just felt… strange. She let it fall back onto the bedspread for a moment, before she made to get out of bed.

A sharp pang traveled shot from her hand up her arm, and Ari’elle inhaled harshly at the pain. A feeling of dread came over her slowly, a dawning realization. Is this what Corypheus meant when she said she would have no choice? She stared down at her palm. 

After a few minutes Ari’elle nodded to herself. Very well. She knew what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am curious how many people's theories on what is going on have now changed! :D


	37. Chapter 37

Cullen felt restless. He exited the kitchens and breathed deeply of the twilight air, taking in the stars that were just starting to peek out, heralding the night to come. His eyes traced a constellation, and the urge to point it out had him raising his hand, turning his head. The words died on his lips, though, when he saw the place beside him empty. Ari wasn’t there.

Cullen slowly lowered his arm, that restlessness surging in his chest again. Ari. She was leaving. His head pounded like crazy, but Cullen took deep calming breaths and slowly he was able to manage the pain. 

He shook himself. Evangelina had not been pleased when he said he needed to spend some time alone tonight. She had requested that he stay with her, but Cullen had remained firm in his resolve. There was something… something he needed to puzzle out. Like a niggling memory that remained just beyond his reach. He hoped that a walk in the summer night would help his headache ease, help him figure out what was bothering him.

He descended the stone steps into the courtyard, keeping his eyes averted from the torches and the lights spilling from the stables. The lights were agitating the throbbing behind his eyes, but a commotion made him pause, and look curiously inside the structure.

He saw several people moving around in there, horses being made ready to leave. Cullen frowned, slugging through the haze of his memory to think of his reports. They were not sending out a patrol at this time of night; perhaps it was some of Leliana’s people?

The giant shape of a qunari put that idea to rest quickly. The Iron Bull was definitely not one of Leliana’s scouts.

Curious, and a bit irritated, Cullen sighed and headed to the stables. This was not how he intended to spend his evening, but this was highly unusual. He needed to know what was happening.

As he stepped inside the enclosure, Cullen couldn’t help his surprise. “What are you all doing?”

Before him in varying levels of readiness, several of his friends were hurrying around. Varric was holding the reins to two horses while Dorian was tying saddlebags onto one’s back. The Iron Bull had just placed his giant saddle on his charger, and Sera sat on a bale of hay, picking out pieces to tickle her small mare with.

“We’re goin’” Sera crowed out, making no attempt to disguise her contempt of him. 

A bubble of anger made him snap, “I can see that. But where are you going?”

Dorian didn’t turn around as he finished tying the knots to his bags, “After Ari’elle. She left for Griffon Wing Keep sometime in the last day and a half.”

Cullen felt the blow of Dorian’s words as a physical punch to the chest. His breath left him, his heart stopped beating. His vision blurred; nothing in focus and blackness encroached, leaving him light headed. Everything else receded, leaving only Dorian’s words. 

Ari’elle left. 

Ari’elle was gone. Without saying goodbye.

With a rush, everything snapped back into focus, and Cullen drew in a shaking breath, blinking at his friends. They were still preparing, acting as if they hadn’t just dropped the largest bomb on him. But, his heart sank, with the way he had been acting, who could blame them for thinking that the news wouldn’t affect him? He worshiped Evangelina, after all. Cullen was able to croak out, “You are going to bring her back?” He tried to push away the hope that was their intention, but it refused to leave.

Sera scoffed, “Bring her back? Nah. We’ll join her.”

Another heavy blow to his chest. Cullen felt a surge of anger rising, felt that irrational need to lash out. They were just going to leave him without telling him anything? How dare they! He was the Inquisitor; he was the one who told people what they would be doing!

“She needs us,” Varric spoke quietly but firmly, his voice cutting through all the noise in the stables and sliced through the anger that was welling within him. 

Cullen closed his eyes at the sting. She needed them. She really did. They had become her closest friends, her support. Ari’elle was traveling to a strange place, heartsick from all he had put her through. 

Enough, he told himself. He was so tired of being torn in half. Sometimes it felt like all he wanted was Ari’elle to go away. Other times, like right now, all he wanted was to plead with her to stay. He couldn’t keep doing that. He couldn’t continue to hurt her with his indecisiveness. 

He sighed wearily, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Then go.” Without another look at the four, he turned on his heel and practically ran away before he could say something he would regret.

Numbly, Cullen let his feet lead him, not noticing the greetings or salutes, barely aware of what was going on in his own mind. His headache had turned vicious again, but he wouldn’t allow it to win. For too many days he had allowed the pain and lethargy plaguing him to take priority. But now there was… that something pulling at him, yanking at him to remember. Remember what, though?

The clatter of hooves on stone drew his head around, and Cullen realized he was on the steps leading up to the Main Hall. He turned and looked down at the four figures now disappearing under the archway to the bridge. Soon there was nothing for him to see, nothing to hear. They were gone, just like Ari’elle.

A vicious throb of his headache sent Cullen back into that trance state, his feet leading him. He was vaguely aware of slipping along the wall, staying to the corner of the room to not draw attention from those still lounging in the great room. He reached the first door and eagerly escaped through it. 

The moonlight lit up the gardens, the breeze causing the plants to gently bob and sway. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Cullen relished the pungent, sweet, and rich fragrances now so common to the enclosure. He walked down the covered path, then stepped out onto the dirt and slowly ambled past the garden beds so alive with beauty. Flowers turned their face up to the sky, awaiting the sun of tomorrow. Herbs of varying shapes and sizes were carefully pruned and collected. A bud here, a root there, the leaves from that one, the nectar from the other.

Why was he here? This was one of the places he had been avoiding, he knew. Now that Ari’elle was gone… Cullen gritted his teeth and continued down the path, heading for the Chantry. Right, he was heading to pray to the Maker. At least… that is where he should have been going; some part of his mind commanded him. But he knew that it wasn’t the real reason he was alone in the garden.

As Cullen passed the gazebo, though, he froze. Drifting in the air, a sweet and light floral scent cut through all the others. Cullen turned, sucking in another lungful of the beautiful fragrance. Where was this coming from? Why had he not noticed it before? Winding around one of the pillars, a vine offered up giant white blossoms to the moon. Cullen drew closer, transfixed at the silver tinted flowers. He did not recognize them; he had never seen them before. And yet… he carefully reached out and plucked one of the velvety blossoms and brought it to his nose. And yet he knew this scent.

A rush of memory came back to him as he stood with his eyes closed, face buried in the foreign and familiar flower. The heat of a fire, the feeling of someone gently running their fingers through his hair. Waking up, sore and stiff, his armor carefully set aside. This scent, the scent of the woman who had helped him, lingering in the fur of his mantle.

Oh Maker. Cullen felt an explosion go off in his head, not physically painful, but mentally burning through him. Maker, what was happening? His mind blanked and Cullen squeezed at his temples with one hand. Slowly, through the white light sparkling in his head, Cullen felt the truth. Felt it settle in his bones and solidify.

Ari had been the one to save him that night. She had smelt of these flowers, had most likely worn them in her hair, as she was wont to do. She had told him the truth all those days ago.

Which meant, that for some reason Evangelina had lied to him about that night, didn’t it? Cullen frowned, casting back to standing on the ballroom’s balcony. He had been so sure that her scent was the one he remembered. But now Cullen could recall that the floral scent he had smelled from that fateful morning had been light and sweet. Evangelina’s perfume, while floral, was more heady and sultry. How had he ever believed that they were the same scent? 

Cullen slowly blinked open his eyes and realized he was crouched on the ground. Although his body was shaking with tension, in his hand he gently cupped Ari’elle’s flower. Despite his pain he had not hurt it.

“Are you awake now? Have you seen everything?” 

Cullen jerked his head to the side, his eyes seeking in the darkness. Cole stepped into the moonlight, his floppy hat hiding his face in the shadows still. “Cole,” Cullen gulped out. “What? What is this flower?”

Cole crouched beside him and looked up at the other blossoms on the vine. He had that strange far-away look Cullen saw him wear often. Slowly, Cole’s voice slipped from his lips, “She calls them Moon Flowers. Wrapped around a tree, she would sing as she braided them in her hair, high off the ground. A noise pulls her away, one falls from her curls as she runs to the cliff edge. Their fragrance followed her down as she jumped after an unconscious man of great heroism. She forgot them as she carefully watched a chest rise and fall in the firelight. But they know she loves them, so they left a hint for the one she loves.”

“For me?” Cullen whispered out, his throat tight.

Cole turned and looked through him and saw his soul. “Always.”

Cullen dropped his head, his hair falling onto his forehead and he stared down at the beautiful bloom in his hand. “And I… I can’t believe how I treated her. We were…” He coughed and tried again to speak around the painful catching of his throat. “We were in love, weren’t we?” 

“Yes.” Cole said simply. 

Cullen surged to his feet, Cole echoing in his shadow. “Then why did I do that to her? I was cruel to her, ignored her!” He paced, shoving one hand through his hair, tangling it. The other though, still gently held the Moon Flower. “I don’t want her to hurt.” Cullen felt more of that sparkling white energy sizzling through his brain, and he realized for the first time in weeks that he no longer felt exhausted. “Why did I act like that then? That wasn’t like me anymore. Right?” He frowned, thinking back over the weeks. “I haven’t been acting like myself for days, have I?”

“No,” Cole confirmed. “I kept trying to tell you that.”

Cullen spun and frowned down at the boy. “What do you mean? We haven’t talked since before I left Skyhold weeks ago.” 

Cole shook his head, his gleaming eyes boring into Cullen. “No. We have talked every night since your return.” A chill gripped Cullen, rooting him to the spot. “Tonight it is earlier than when you are usually here. Usually it is so dark outside, so late, no one else knows.” A spark of memory started to come forth, but Cullen was so surprised he couldn’t bring it to life. 

“Why don’t I remember it?” He whispered.

Cole shrugged. “She makes you forget.” Cullen frowned at his words. Who made him forget? Not Ari’elle, he knew that for certain. Evangelina? How? And why would she want him to forget? 

Cole turned towards the Chantry and started to walk away. “Wait,” Cullen shouted after him. Desperation pulled at him now, urgency, his questions pulling at him. “Where are you going? I have questions!”

Cole tossed over his shoulder, “She left you another clue. In her room.”

Ari. Cullen whirled and raced through the night, his hand reaching inside his jacket and pressing the Moon Flower to his chest pocket. He heard the surprised gasps as he threw doors open, but he didn’t care. He ran through the solarium, over the bridge and wrenched open the door to her tower. With a swiftness born of apprehension, he scrambled up the ladder, and then stood panting in her room.

It was dark. Too dark. And so empty, as if without her in the room it became cold and lifeless. Perhaps, he slowly grasped, all rooms were like that without Ari’elle. Just another room.

His hands shaking, Cullen lit a brace of candles, sweeping his eyes over the furnishings. A clue? Her trunk was still in place, so he lifted the lid. Rapidly he sorted through her remaining clothing. She had left most of her new things here, took very little when she left. Wouldn’t she need them? Or was someone going to bring them to her later? 

He sat back on his heels, and then looked to her collection. A set of shelves were now filled with little bits of Ari’elle’s treasure. Coins, scraps of metal in interesting shapes. Empty glass bottles, a few kitchen gadgets. A whole row devoted to books, including ones still perfectly packaged, as if she had never opened them. But nothing Cullen would consider a clue.

There! On her bedside table lay a letter. Cullen snatched it up and saw his name scrawled on the front. He broke the seal and moved back to the light, sitting on the edge of the bed as he hurriedly smoothed open the pages. For a moment he took in her large, childish lettering, bracing himself for what she had written. He took in a steading breath and began.

_Dear Cullen,_

_I’m sorry I lied to you, but I couldn’t tell you the truth. I can now, it makes no differince. I got my mark from Corypheus, not from a holy being. He came to me in a dream after I met you, and offered me an answer to all my dreams. The Anchor gave me the chance to be close to you, and I was finally able to learn more about the human world. There were rules I agread to before I got it, thogh. The first was that I would have to ~~compl~~ do a task for him. If I said no, then I would have to spend a year in his servise. The second was that I couldn’t tell anyone or I would have to imediately return to him. Tonight he told me what the task was, and I just couldn’t do it. So I am leaving now to return to the forest. I know what happens to those in his servise so I don’t expect I will be coming back. _

_I love you Cullen. I have for forever now. All I want is for you to be happy. I hope you will be._

_Always,_

_Ari’elle_

For a long time Cullen stared down at Ari’elle’s handwriting, smoothing his fingers over her name. He couldn’t sort through his emotions; rage, joy, terror, horror, self-disgust, and a burning need for answers. He let them all roll through him.

Ari’elle loved him.

Several things crystallized for him in rapid succession, and he stood, filled with energy. He slid down the ladder and over to the side door, flinging it open. “Soldier,” he barked. The sentry pacing the ramparts whirled in confusion, snapping a smart salute as he recognized the Inquisitor. “Sound the call. I want the veteran guard ready to depart for battle within the hour. We will be making double time, so tell everyone to prepare for a fast journey. And send for two guards to stand at my bedroom door. Go!” He didn’t wait to see the man leave, but he heard him running, already shouting out orders. 

Cullen marched back to the Main Hall, his eyes moving over the crowd. He didn’t see Evangelina amongst her usual flock of dignitaries, so he found a servant. “Bring Lady Trevelyan to my rooms at once. Tell her immediately, do you understand?” The servant nodded rapidly, his eyes wide at Cullen’s tone. Very rarely did he don the Commander persona outside of training or battle, but tonight called for it.

The letter hadn’t sounded like her; too serious and to the point. But he knew that she had written it. Had he pushed her spirit so much that it had broken? Stabbing worry worked at his heart; he prayed to the Maker and Andraste that it wasn’t the case. She had such a beautiful soul; she deserved to remain just as she had been. So he had to hurry.

Taking two steps at a time, Cullen raced to his room. He dashed up the last steps to his room and froze. He looked around, finally seeing everything clearly for the first time in weeks… just as Cole had asked him.

There were vases filled with bouquets of flowers all around his room. Cullen went from one to another, touching the faded glory of each one. He had been going to the gardens each night, he slowly remembered. He came to the table next to his bed, gazed down at the small vase displaying its prize. These little purple flowers were the freshest, and the same ones that Ari’elle had had woven in her hair last night when she had told him she was leaving. 

Late last night he had woken up from another nightmare, and he had retreated down to the garden. Carefully he had searched for the same flowers she had worn, picking the most beautiful ones. He had brought them back to his room and placed them on this table. He had stared at them as he had fallen asleep. The reminder of her had soothed him and he had dreamed only of Ari’elle. 

And he now remembered Evangelina coming to his room this morning, disgusted at another vase full of flowers. She had ordered that he forget about it… and he had.

Cullen felt anger rising in him, fury at her manipulation. Only this anger felt like his own, not one that someone had pressed on him. No, not someone. Evangelina.

He rushed to pack his travel bags, taking the bare minimum of what he would need. Lastly he grabbed his sword, shield, and helm and placed them with his things. Then he sank down on the edge of the bed and waited.

She took her time. She must have realized something momentous was occurring. Even up here in his tower, he could hear the raucous that such sudden and serious orders had caused throughout Skyhold. He looked over at the clock on his mantle. He would give her five more minutes; even though there were still thirty before his order to depart, he was not going to risk Ari’elle’s life just for this encounter. 

Delicate steps indicated Evangelina was finally making her way to him. Cullen watched her with hooded eyes as she stepped gracefully into the room, looking the perfect picture of a lady, just as she always did. 

“Cullen? What is going on? Where are you going?” She came up to him hesitantly, concern and confusion the only look on her face. 

Cullen remained in his pose, his elbows braced on his knees, his fingers steepled against his lips. He looked up at her from his lowered lids and asked her simply, “How did you do it Evangelina?”

She blinked prettily down at him, her long dark lashes fluttering. “How did I do what?”

“How were you controlling me? How did you make me forget?” If he hadn’t been watching her face so intently, he would have missed the flash of fear that she quickly replaced with her confusion. But Cullen was watching. And he was not going to allow her to manipulate him again. 

“I don’t know what you mean. I have never controlled you!” Evangelina came to stand before him. He straightened his spine, keeping his eyes fixed to her face. Very gently she laid her glowing hand against his cheek. Cullen could feel the magic in the Anchor arching, the tingles as it touched his skin. “You love me.” She said firmly. When Cullen didn’t even blink, his mouth still remained pressed into an expressionless line, she sighed with resignation and impatience. Almost as if this were a regular occurrence that she found annoying. “Fine then, you worship me.”

I worship Evangelina. How many times had he said that in the last two weeks? Because she had someone made him feel that way? But he had never said he loved her, had never even kissed her. He knew that implicitly. Despite her repeated attempts, she hadn’t been able to get him to feel that. Because he had been in love with Ari’elle already.

“No, Evangelina.” Cullen stood and encircled her wrist, pulled her hand from his face. “No, I don’t worship you. I don’t love you. I know you have been doing something to me and now I want the truth. Was it lyrium? Blood magic? What was it?”

Evangelina fought against his grip, yanking her arm away. “Nothing! I haven’t done anything to you, Cullen. You must believe me!” Pretty tears filled her eyes and fell down her cheeks, but they were practiced. A response from a master manipulator. 

“I don’t.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her expectantly. He felt disgust as her tears dried instantly, a calculated look appearing in the pinched look of her lips, her narrowed eyes. 

Instantly she reached back out and put her hand on him again, this time his wrist. “Cullen, just forget about this argument and this silly idea,” she ordered. For a moment, Cullen could feel that hazy lassitude creep at the fringes of his mind. 

“No,” Cullen growled and pushed back at it, not allowing whatever sort of spell it was to gain on him. He clung to his own emotions and memories, keeping his mind under his own control. “No, Evangelina.” 

She grabbed onto his wrist harder, her perfectly manicured fingernails digging into his skin. “Yes! You will obey me!” The haze pushed back harder, but Cullen now easily rebuffed it. He knew what to fight now. He held Ari’elle fast, and the fog couldn’t tear a rift between them any longer. 

“It’s not working anymore!” She snarled down at her hand, anger twisting her features. It wasn’t very fair, Cullen thought in passing, that such ugly anger could still be beautiful on her. Evangelina’s porcelain skin was flushed a becoming pink, her crystalline blue eyes flashing, her lips pouting attractively. She was still hauntingly attractive, but Cullen didn’t feel anything anymore. There was nothing lovely in her nature, and he felt his fury recede. She really was just a spoiled brat; she just had some sort of powerful magic on her side. 

Evangelina gritted her teeth and strained at his wrist, concentration on the Mark. It flared brighter green, the electricity of it increasing, but it had no effect on him. “Argh!” She cried out in frustration. 

He grabbed her wrist again and pulled it from his skin. “What isn’t working?” He raised his brows down at her and then at the glowing green Mark on her palm. “Your Anchor isn’t working anymore? What were your attempts supposed to do? Because I am beginning to think it is not what Ari’elle’s does, close Rifts.” 

Evangelina stilled and tossed her hair, “It’s always Ari’elle with you. You wouldn’t hate her, would only ignore her. I actually had to make you hurt yourself to stop thinking about her!” She stamped her foot in frustration. “You wouldn’t love me! All the others loved me when I told them to! I’m the Herald of Andraste, everyone does what I say!” She snapped her mouth shut and pressed her lips together. “I’m not telling you anything.” She announced petulantly. Cullen raised his brows at her childish behavior, curious in an offhand way if she realized just how much she had actually revealed about her abilities. 

Cullen glanced at the clock. Time to wrap this up. “Telling me nothing about your Mark and supposed Anchor, or nothing about Corypheus?” 

Evangelina gasped, her eyes widening in shock. “How did…” She clamped mouth closed again, but she had given herself away.

“Fine, if you don’t feel like sharing now, I will just have you locked away for a few days. Maybe some time in the dungeons will loosen your tongue.” Cullen raised his voice and called for the soldiers standing at his door. They came into his room, surprise written on their face at their tableau. 

“You will take Lady Trevelyan to the dungeons.” When they looked hesitant at the idea, Cullen informed them. “She has revealed herself to be working in league with Corypheus. You will leave two guards with her at all times, and do not under any circumstances let her glowing hand touch your bare skin.” Understanding and anger bloomed in their eyes, and they snapped into action. 

“You will regret this Cullen!” Evangelina shrieked as they pulled her away, mindful of her thrashing and flailing hand. “We would have been perfect for each other! We could have ruled everything! We could have been more powerful than anyone else! Revered!” The door slammed behind them, and Cullen heavily sank on the bed.

Maker’s breath, he scrubbed his face with his hands, what had just happened? He stood abruptly and gathered his things. He was feeling nauseous and confused by all that she had exposed, but he didn’t have time to wallow right now. Ari’elle was in danger, and there would be plenty of time to think in the long hours of riding ahead of him.

He grabbed his gear and bolted down the stairs, following Evangelina’s screams and the shocked expressions of those in her wake. Would everyone else be as blindsided as he had been? Had she coerced others into thinking what she wanted? One thing he knew for certain, though, is that he had failed himself with Evangelina. However she had been controlling him, he hadn’t put up enough of a fight. And he didn’t know how he was going to ever forgive himself for that. He didn’t know how Ari’elle was going to forgive him.

Ari’elle said she loved him. His heart leapt again, a burst of joy filling him. And she was headed to Corypheus. A vision of Ari’elle twisted and tainted with red crystals fueled the fires of his urgency. No! He would do anything to prevent that from happening to her!

Down in the courtyard a huge group had gathered, torches lit to guide them on the rocky mountain trail. Every one of the eighteen veteran guards ready were leading a second horse, one to change to if something should happen on their rapid journey. Leliana and Josephine stood close by, confused by what had prompted this sudden departure.

Cullen nodded to the man holding Imperial, and swung up onto his war horse’s back. He spun Imperial around and addressed his ambassador and spy master. “I haven’t been myself the past two weeks, and I have just found out why. Evangelina Trevelyan is somehow tied up with Corypheus. She now is in the dungeons. Leliana,” He turned and addressed her, “Find out what you can. Do what you feel you must, but I still have much I need to ask her myself.” 

Leliana’s surprise at his announcement and then her cold expression made Cullen realize that she would gladly take things upon herself to find the truth. He didn’t think they would need to resort to real torture, though. Evangelina was spoiled, used to being cosseted. A few days in a dungeon with a stone cot and a bucket for amenities would most likely be enough torture for her to make her talk.

“Where are you going?” Josephine pipped up, surprised at all that was happening.

“Ari’elle has left Skyhold and is headed for Corypheus. She also is tied up with him, but she left rather than do… something that would compromise the Inquisition.” Cullen pressed his hand over his heart, feeling the crinkle of her letter he had tucked into his pocket against his palm. “She is in grave danger. We need to reach her before she reaches him.” 

“What do you intend to do with her?” Josephine asked fearfully. With the way he had been acting towards Ari’elle, and his abrupt shift in attitude towards Evangelina, Cullen knew that she was just afraid for her friend.

He smiled down at her gently, “Hold her close and never let her go.” Cullen wheeled Imperial around. “I lost her once. I’m not going to lose her again!”

As he kicked Imperial into a gallop, he grinned at the cheers Josephine and Leliana let out. He bent low over Imperial’s neck, letting the horse have his head. 

“I’m coming, Ari.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is Evangelina's magic?! And what is going to happen to Ari?!
> 
> I guess we will find out next chapter! ;)


	38. Chapter 38

Ari’elle pulled the bridle off her mare and set it on top of the discarded saddle. Hopefully someone in need of such gear would find it. It was unlikely she would use it again. She brushed a slightly wavering hand down her mare’s neck, then stepped away from the last tie she had to the Inquisition. And to Cullen. 

Wearing her Dalish clothes and pack, and with her bow and quiver in place, Ari’elle stepped into the forest. Her last few hurried days had shown her the extent her Mark was guiding her. It was like an arrow pointing her in the direction of Corypheus. Veer away from the direction it wanted her to go, and it would send shooting pain up her arm. Delay too long, either, and it made its displeasure known. It was herding her towards her fate.

Ari’elle took a deep breath of the familiar scent of the woods. This was around were she had first left the forest, but it was different enough that she didn’t have any markers to orient herself with. At some point there would be the river to cross, but she wasn’t sure where. Or even if she was being led that far.

A flicker of white zoomed above her head, pulling her eyes upward. There, hopping along a dead branch, sat a snowy white owl. “Oh,” she gasped, recognition filling her, “Noble!” The largest of her four owl friends and the quietest, Noble’s striking yellow eyes bored into her. Ari’elle swallowed as the stare continued, feeling as if he were reading much more than what was obvious. A dizzy sensation washed over her as the connection continued, her quiet friend unmoving. 

Abruptly he blinked, hooted, and then took off into the air. Ari’elle shook herself from her fancy, and watched him depart. He wasn’t flying away quickly, and while she was standing still and watching him, he alighted on a branch further down. He turned back to her, ruffled his feathers and blinked at her slowly. 

A crackle of pain from her hand snapped her attention down to her Mark. Gritting her teeth at it, Ari’elle absently rubbed her hand against her thigh and started forward. Noble watched her progress and when she had almost reached his position, he took off again.

He was following her, Ari’elle realized with dawning amazement, watching his wings flap, body dodging between trees. Except he was leading her. But he didn’t know where he was leading her; she didn’t even know where she was going, so how could a wild animal be keeping in such perfect pace before her? Ari’elle gulped and felt that same dizzying sensation sweep through her. What was going on here? It was true her friends had never quite acted like normal wild owls… but this was beyond even that.

Confused, Ari’elle continued deeper into the forest. It grew later and darker, and she knew at some point she would need to stop and sleep. She forced herself to have some of the hard meat Inquisition soldiers used while out on missions, and foraged from any edible plants she passed by. She wasn’t hungry, but she knew that if she had any chance of surviving the upcoming meeting she would need to keep her body nourished. 

Late, just after she decided to find a place to sleep, she and Noble came to a tree with another owl sitting in its branches. Faint moonlight showed that he was smaller, his beak clacking as he chattered down at her. Oh Creators, Ari’elle marveled. It was Key, the smallest, bossiest of her feathered friends. And he was mothering her.

Despite her exhaustion, Ari’elle couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. Noble glided down and sat next to his brother, the two bumping against each other as they jockeyed for the best position. Ari’elle sank to the moss beneath the tree, leaning her aching back against the bark and closed her eyes. For the first time since she had left Skyhold, she felt safe. Safe enough to actually sleep. Her friends would warn her.

Above her, Key finally listened to Nobles soft words and quieted, and Ari’elle dropped off rapidly into a heavy, fatigued sleep. 

Her heart still ached. It wasn’t easy for Ari’elle to push away the feeling, to look beyond it, but her current work helped. There was so much uncertainty in the coming encounter, she couldn’t help but replay scenario after scenario. And since she was busy with that, she didn’t think as much on Cullen.

But in dreams, Ari’elle could remember. She dreamed of being tucked against a warm chest, her head nestled beneath a chin, legs entwined. The spicy scent of his skin called to her, made her want to spread kisses over the smooth chest but also just to stay still and relax into the feeling of being cradled against his body. His big hand moved up and down her bare back, soothing, and she felt the tension drain away from her muscles. 

Cullen, her heart sighed. In her dream, Ari’elle clutched him closer, relishing in his solidness. Part of her unconscious knew that he was not actually with her. But it didn’t matter, not right now. In her dreams he was close. He was her courage during this ordeal. Because of Cullen, all she wanted his future to be, Ari’elle could keep up with her plan. 

It was early dawn when Ari’elle blinked open her eyes, feeling calmer and more centered. The world was sideways; at some point she had fallen over to her side and curled up. Memories of Cullen urged her to escape into dreams once more, but she shook her head. It was time to face reality again.

She rolled over onto her back and stretched mightily, and when she opened her eyes two pairs were staring down at her in consternation. Owls didn’t understand the strange habits of diurnal bipeds. And there were things to do still, while this one slept for hours. 

Ari’elle blinked away the sleep from her mind, and realized that the two owls staring at her were not the two who had watched her fall asleep. No, here now was Leaf and Grouse. Leaf cocked his head to the side, watching her carefully. And Grouse started to complain, telling her she needed to get up and get ready or they would never make it in time. The tiny clearing Ari’elle lay in was filled with the sound of his scolds, and she dutifully obeyed him.

The river was just a little ways away, she realized. Key must have picked this spot for her, not wanting her to cross the currents at night. There was a natural formation allowing for easy passage across, if you were able to see it. And in the brightening morning, it was simple enough to drink her fill of the icy water and then carefully maneuver across the racing waters.

Ari’elle continued now more guided by the path of her friends than by her hand. It almost seemed like it knew now she wasn’t going to disobey it, so the Anchor quieted. But the butterflies in her stomach built. If it stopped paining her, could she run? Would it start up again if she decided to abandon her course?

Ari’elle couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips. Corypheus would be surprised, wouldn’t he? The man who imagined himself to be a God; his demands disregarded by a little Dalish elf. It would serve him right! That alone was almost enough to cause her to try to alter her direction. 

But the idea of a little Dalish elf somehow defeating this… to borrow one of Sera’s words, this arsehole of a ‘God’, was even more delicious than thwarting him with disobedience. Ari’elle knew she had little chance, but a little chance of defeating Corypheus was a greater chance than just running away. 

Besides, an image of Cullen’s tender smile lingering in her head, there were people she loved who deserved to live happily in a world without Corypheus in it.

So Ari’elle continued. Through the morning the owls leading her changed periodically. There would always be two ahead of her. One would fly in from somewhere in the forest, and another would peel off and disappear among the trees. Ari’elle got the distinct impression they were reporting… which was ridiculous. Except who ever heard of owls escorting an elf through the woods with such organized precision in the first place?

She shrugged away her questions. She was admittedly extremely curious, but in the end the answer did not make much of a difference. She was just pleased she wasn’t alone. It was easier to keep calm with friends around.

Abruptly Leaf and Noble, the two escorting her currently, settled on a branch and stared unmoving. Ari’elle blinked up at them, and then followed their gaze. Just ahead of her there was a super dense thicket of trees. Almost a wall, she thought. And there was something in the air. A hum of ancient magic and a cloying, sticky feeling that almost overpowered it.

Ari’elle huffed out a breath and readied her bow. Well, it seemed like she had arrived.

With one last look up to her friends still watching the trees with narrowed eyes, Ari’elle dropped her pack, crouched and crept forward. As she approached, she realized that the trees actually were surrounding a wall, the stones mostly covered with foliage, blocking the view of the structure. And she faintly could hear noise coming from inside. 

She looked around for a moment, but saw no entrance. She could go around looking for one, she supposed. Or, her eyes narrowed and looked the trees up and down, she could just go over the wall. 

It would be a surprise, she thought smugly. Poor Corypheus probably never thought of something as undignified as someone climbing trees. Therefore, it was perfect. Dignity? Like she cared about such things.

Slinging her bow over her shoulder and back, she hastily braided her hair and bound it. No flowers for her this trip; being unnoticed was what was important. Ari’elle dug her fingers into the bark of one of the ancient trees and agilely scaled the branches, smoothly making her way higher. Within moments she reached the top of the wall, and kept herself low as she looked inside.

Now she knew where that oily feeling came from, Ari’elle shuddered. Inside the courtyard half a dozen fully turned Red Templars were roaming around. She made herself even smaller against the wall as she nibbled her lip, debating her options. 

Well. She wasn’t going to be able to take them all on, not by herself. If she had Varric, Dorian and The Iron Bull with her, they would be able to cut a clean swath through them. But she was unfortunately by herself at the moment. So she would have to get through a subtler way. Ari’elle’s eyes hunted around the ruins, searching for another passage. Corypheus wasn’t right here; therefore, he had to be somewhere close by, deeper within the crumbling structure. 

The open courtyard before her had one gateway leading out into the forest, and another set of doors leading into a building. Whatever the purpose the ruins had held, it was obviously Elvan in origin. With slow and cautious movements, Ari’elle moved along the edge of the wall. Hidden by more trees hanging over the roof and plenty of other overgrown plants, she couldn’t tell how big the structure really was. What she could see was extensive though, obviously it was some place of import. 

She saw statues of the Creators around and items she had learned about from Keeper Solas. But these ruins were new to her; something so close to her Clan’s usual circuit and she had never heard of it before? It must have been sealed or hidden with some very powerful magic.

How had Corypheus found it?

She reached the end of the wall and climbed up into a tree grown up inside the courtyard. The doors leading inside were a little way from the base of the tree, but she couldn’t use it. Instead, another path opened its way for her. The ceiling of the place beckoned, only partially intact. There were a places with holes, areas where trees had pushed through stone. If she could just make it across the roof, she could climb down inside using one of those trees.

Licking her lips, Ari’elle scooted out on the edge of a branch and carefully lowered herself onto the slanting stone, testing to see if it would hold her. Beneath her toes the old tiles were slick with growth, not offering much grip. Ari’elle eased down to a crouch, using her hands as another point of contact as she carefully picked her way along the roof line.

Inside the room below her, Ari’elle figured there would be traps laid for those who were not supposed to enter. Perhaps Corypheus was tangling with those still and she could surprise him. She could hear more voices speaking, but they seemed to be coming from deeper in the structure. Or maybe she wouldn’t be so lucky. 

Her target tree lay just before her, and even more carefully now Ari’elle crept to the edge of the broken roof. She could feel the stone shift slightly as she stepped and her heart pounded in her throat. She made it to one of the arches holding the roof in place and practically leaped to the first available branch. The rocks behind her grated at the absence of her weight, and the branch she was on shook with her landing. 

Ari’elle held her breath as she waited for the shouts of her discovery to ring out. But there was nothing. Just that muffled discussion further in. 

Ari’elle shuddered out a breath and resituated herself, hunkering down as she looked for her next target. The room she was now in was vast, about twice the size of the courtyard outside, and filled with even more Elvan culture. In here she could see the glint of colored murals in the torchlight, the patterned mosaics laid out in detailed pictures. Several glowing red bodies lay in unnatural poses, but Ari’elle didn’t know if they were dead from the defenses of the area or from the slow overcoming of the red lyrium. 

There was no living soul visible. 

Ari’elle worked down to the lowest branch, aware that she would be visible if someone were to look up to this part of the room. But as she scanned the area, she still saw no one patrolling. There was just a massive set of doors at the top of sweeping steps, ajar and beckoning. Whatever traps had been here, Corypheus had disabled them or triggered them, and then moved further inside. 

Silently, Ari’elle dropped to the ground, keeping to the shadows. She pulled her bow from her back and nocked an arrow, at the ready. She swept her gaze around the room once more before she wisped from shadow to shadow. 

It was a temple, Ari’elle realized, her gaze tracing the figures of the Creators done in beautiful work on the walls. Keeper Solas would have undoubtable been enthralled with such a place if he had known it were here. Which again made her curious as to how Corypheus had been the one to discovered it.

Ari’elle looked around once more, trying to determine if there were any enemies in the room before she stepped out of the security of darkness. But there was nothing visible, only the lure of sound from the next room. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. Whatever happened now… well, this was certainly it.

Ari’elle stepped from the shadows and made her way up the stairs. Her ears twitched nervously, sounds bombarding her, heightened as things seemed even more amplified with each step closer. The next room was not ablaze with light, actually seemed as if the tiny area inside the door she could see was darker, but it drew her as if the sun was pouring from inside. 

She reached the top of the stairs and flattened herself against the closed door, listening to the voices. She could hear Corypheus speaking, his strange accent and multilayered voice echoing inside. Ari’elle thought that he was speaking in another language; the words meant nothing to her. And currently he was the only one saying anything. Earlier she had sworn she had heard other voices, which meant that there was at least one other in there with him. Probably more. 

Ari’elle licked her dry lips and quietly breathed out a shaking breath. She would only get one chance at this. She closed her eyes and thought of Cullen. Oh how she wished she could hold him one last time. To actually tell him that she loved him and kiss him with the desperation she felt. She swallowed at the ache in her chest, felt tears prickle the back of her eyes. No! She needed to stay focused, calm. Even though it was cold comfort, she had told him the truth of everything in her letter. She had her memories, and the knowledge that she was doing the best for him.

Ari’elle forced her eyes open and pushed away her feelings as best she could. The last few weeks had given her practice at better controlling her emotions. She supposed now that things had come to this, she was grudgingly glad for Evangelina’s entrance into her life. 

If she and Cullen had been in love, or at the very least like they had been before Evangelina? Ari’elle didn’t think she would have had the strength to leave him.

Ari’elle opened her eyes, her brown eyes sharp, her resolve hardened. She was doing this for him, and all of her friends in the Inquisition. No matter what happened, she had hurt Corypheus’s plans by not killing Evangelina. And maybe she would be lucky enough to kill him today, stop him in his tracks.

She carefully peeked inside. And there he was. Corypheus’s tall and thin figure stood towards the back of the room, facing away from her. His arms were raised at something before him, but two giant Red Templars turned behemoths glowed at his sides, obscuring everything beyond. Around the room others in various forms of transformed Templars stood facing the Tevinter Magister, nothing of intelligence left in their eyes. No one was facing the door; no one was paying any attention to anything else except the ritual taking place. 

Ari’elle slipped inside the room, keeping to the darkest part of the stone walls. She silently stepped away from the light from the previous chamber, but she didn’t move too far. She didn’t want to catch the eyes of the men formed in a half circle around Corypheus. 

Corypheus’s words grew in strength and became louder, and he reached up above his head. In one hand a wicked looking dagger flashed over the flesh of his wrist, and blood poured out. Before the fall of liquid could reach the floor, the blood curled up and moved, manipulated by the gestures of Corypheus’s hands.

Blood magic. Ari’elle suppressed the shudder that wanted to jangle her nerves. She had seen the power Corypheus expended with such magic; it was a formidable thing. And it made the air in the room feel pure evil.

Ari’elle positioned herself and lifted her bow, arrow drawn back. The ease of her pose now spoke to the hours she had spent perfecting her skill; of her hours of fighting and training. Ari’elle took one steadying breath, calming her heart rate. Lining up her shot, she inhaled once more and exhaled. At the end of her breath, when there was nothing to jar her aim, her fingers released.

Across the room Corypheus tried to scream in pain, the blood he had been manipulating falling to the floor as the evil spell disintegrated. Pandemonium around the room struck as he gurgled, his hands frantically scrambling at the arrow Ari’elle had placed in his throat. 

Fierce emotions caught in her throat as she notched another arrow, sending into one of the franticly moving Templars and she moved towards the door, keeping her eyes trained on Corypheus as she fired. She wasn’t leaving until she knew he was dead. 

He slumped, falling to the side and crumpling in on himself. Her arrow had struck true, severing his spine. There was no way he could recover from that. He couldn’t use magic to mend himself; he couldn’t use his hands. She had done it. She had killed him.

But the mass of Red Templars were catching on, and she was no longer hidden. There was a chance that she could escape. But even as she let loose another arrow and turned to run, a bellow from outside announced that those in the courtyard knew something was wrong and were ready for a fight. 

Ari’elle ran out the door, sprinting towards the tree she had climbed down. It was her only chance for escape now. If only she could get to the tree.

Behind her the heavy doors were flung open and the crashing sound of a behemoth’s crystal hand breaking the stone as it pounded on the ground echoed in the chamber. But Ari’elle was faster than a behemoth. She dropped her bow, freeing up her hands. As much as she would have liked the protection of having a weapon, speed right now would be her only ally. 

Ari’elle reached the tree, and she jumped, her fingers grabbing around the lowest branch. Hope bloomed in her chest as she swung her legs up. 

But she wasn’t fast enough. Hands grabbed onto the clothing at her waist and yanked downward. She screamed as the incredible strength behind it caused her hands to slip from the branch, and she came crashing down against the stone.

Her breath knocked from her, Ari’elle lay dazed for a second. Long enough for more hands to haul her upright. Limp between two only slightly turned Templars, with her arms locked against their bodies, Ari’elle hung, sucking in breaths, her heart racing franticly.

Suddenly her brain snapped back to attention, and Ari’elle lifted her head. She was still alive. Immediately she started to thrash, yanking at her arms, trying to escape their grasp. But she didn’t make any difference as they began bodily hauling her back to the room Corypheus had been in.

Why was she still alive? She kicked at the one on her left, hoping to cause him to stumble. Instead her bare feet just cracked against metal plate, doing far more damage to her than to him. Why not kill her right now? With their leader dead, did they even have a plan?

Lifted from the floor, Ari’elle kicked and screamed, fear and anger coursing through her. It wasn’t until they halted that Ari’elle realized what was before her.

“No!” She gasped, falling still. Terror ran through her body, making her tremble. “No!” She cried out louder.

Corypheus stood before her, angry and sinister and very much alive. “You were dead!” Ari’elle’s gaze flew back to where she had killed him. Instead of his body lying crumpled on the floor, though, a Templar’s body had that position.

Corypheus reached out and circled her left wrist, hauling her into the air and out of the Templar’s hands. Ari’elle cried out in pain at the movement, her shoulder screaming in protest. She wriggled, clawing at his gauntlet, before Corypheus encircled her throat with his free hand and squeezed. Ari’elle choked as he continued to apply pressure, her eyes locked with the malicious curl of his twisted, tainted features. Black spots winked in her vision and her thrashings became weaker and weaker with each second she was deprived of oxygen.

“You will be paid in kind for that, eventually, _rattus._ ” Corypheus growled and suddenly released his grip on her neck. 

Ari’elle gasped for air, her breaths harsh as they came in through her raw, abused throat. Shivers now raced through her body, the trembling having mastery over her limbs. 

“How?” She finally croaked out, the pain in her shoulder increasing as she continued to dangle in the air. 

A smirk pulled his features again. “I am God. You cannot fathom to kill a God.”

Abruptly he dropped her, and Ari’elle crumpled to the floor. It was then that she noticed what Corypheus had been standing before. An _Eluvian._ She knew what the artifact was from lessons with Keeper Solas, but she had never actually seen one before. Luckily it was inert, the key to turning it on not triggered.

“I thank you for coming,” Corypheus mocked down at her, a terrible laugh rolling through the room. He took the same stance he had before, and a panic seized Ari’elle. Whatever was to happen next, Ari’elle knew she had to stop it. _Eluvians_ were powerful, dangerous tools. He couldn’t gain access to it.

“Why,” She pushed past her pain, “Why did you want me to kill Lady Trevelyan?” It wasn’t a question she though he would answer, but it was the first one that came to mind. “Why kill the Herald of Andraste?”

Corypheus turned and glowered down at her. “The Herald of Andraste,” He snorted, then unexpectedly turned and crouched, looming over her prone body. “There is no Maker, no Andraste, ruling from a golden city. But I knew you would lack the capacity to kill her. There is nothing you would do to cause harm to your precious Cullen,” his words spat out. “And I calculated on the fact. Your weakness played right into my plans.”

Ice flowed through Ari’elle, and she stared at him, her eyes wide and mouth open. 

Almost tenderly, Corypheus ran one grotesque finger down the arrow of her vallaslin. “One of Andruil’s Chosen.” He stood and turned. “It would have taken me long to find this place without you. I had searched for one such as you for long, until you stumbled your way onto the scene. Your blood unlocked the secrets of this place. As it shall again.” 

Ari’elle’s head swam as she took in what he had said. Why had he been looking for Andruil’s chosen? Had her blood somehow revealed the location of this place? Why would it? Then, what she hadn’t seen before now became clearer. All around the room were statues and murals of Andruil. The largest one towered over the placement of the _Eluvian._

One of Andruil’s chosen. Somehow she had had the capabilities of finding Anruil’s lost temple.

“The Herald of Andraste,” he snorted once more, “She was an infinitesimal step. I thought her magical abilities of sufficient strength, but they were not enough to break the magics hiding this place. She wanted to be famous, powerful and immortal. In her frail mind, Andraste was the highest she could aim for. I furnished her with a corrupted Spirit of Faith. One who demanded absolute Obedience to its will.” He looked down at her with mad eyes, boasting as she lay dazed at his feet. 

“She was controlled to my advantage for an interval. She believed she was the one constructing others to submit to her will, but she was made to conform when it suited me. Obedience knows who to bow to. Even the Fade dwellers recognize that I am God of all. She was immensely connected through her noble Free Marches family,” He sneered, disgust for the place obvious. “Exceptionally placed to manipulate. Nevertheless, I required you.” 

Ari’elle couldn’t comprehend what Corypheus had just told her. Evangelina was working for Corypheus? She was possessed with a spirit of Obedience? Not really a spirit, it sounded like. More like a demon. Is… is that why Cullen had been acting like he had? Could Cullen actually still care for her underneath a spell? 

Was he in danger? He must be. Ari’elle had to figure out a way to warn him!

Corypheus grasped her wrist again, her questions disappearing as he pulled out the Orb. 

Instantly both her hand and the Orb flared green, and she felt the sting of it racing up her arm. Ari’elle cried out, almost missing his words. “It demands of you, does it not? Elvan blood is what it requires. And you were so impatient to agree to my terms. To play with the other _rattus_ of the world. Trevelyan’s Anchor was always weak, the Orb rejecting her pathetic blood. The stronger your power grew; the weaker Trevelyan’s became. And I knew it was time.”

He hauled her up again, yanking on her arm, “Your blood will soon reveal the path to unlock the _Eluvian_ for me.” He hissed down at her face, a maniacal light glowing in his read eyes. “I will acquire it!”

“Never!” Ari’elle cried out, and kicked him in the stomach. 

He backhanded her, and she sagged at the force of the blow, the orb adding weight to his hand. He lifted her higher and spun, held her with her back to the mirror. A chant started to flow from his lips, dark and dangerous as he offered both the orb and her up in offering. Ari’elle thrashed, swinging her legs back and forth. When she had gained enough movement, she kicked up, catching Corypheus in the jaw with her heel.

He howled out in anger, and snapped. With a vicious snarl, he hauled her body back and then tossed her away from himself. The force of her moving away while he still held her wrist pulled her arm from her socket, and the pain of made her scream, cut short as she smacked into the wall and crumpled to the floor. 

Ari’elle curled around her dislocated arm, tears forming at the agony she was in. She was bleeding; she could smell the metallic tang of her blood, but she didn’t know what in this fight what had done it. The blow to her face? The force of her hitting the wall? Her head felt like it had been cracked, her spine at the least bruised from the stones. Bruises would be around her foot, wrist, and neck. There felt like no place on her body that was not unharmed in some way. Her ears were ringing and she whimpered as she saw Corypheus stalk towards her.

Across the room, a war cry echoed from the door, jerking all eyes towards it and pulled Corypheus around. Pouring through the gap, men and women dressed in battle gear emblazoned with the signal of the Inquisition took the Red Templars on. The creatures had been paying as much attention as before and again were caught unawares as the fighters crashed against them. Ari’elle thought she heard the laugh of Sera, and she saw Bull and Dorian working in tandem, Varric’s bolts shooting between their practiced formations. 

Adorned in all his gear, a man with a sword and shield and a lion’s helmet squared up with Corypheus, battle ready. 

“Cullen!” Ari’elle cried out, but it came out weak, reedy. He couldn’t have heard her. 

Shock, joy, amazement, relief. She couldn’t contain her emotions, and tears slipped down her face. She tried to stand, but agony shot through her body. Something was off with her leg, but it was her shoulder and arm that were paining her uncontrollably. She couldn’t just sit here though. Corypheus was too strong.

Abruptly two Templars appeared before her, reaching down as if to grab her. She shrank back, tried to scoot away from them, but she couldn’t move fast enough to avoid their reaching hands. 

“Imperial! Guard!” Cullen’s voice rang out, and suddenly there was his silver stallion, screaming a battle cry. He galloped across the room, spun and kicked out with his hooves, catching one enemy in the chest, sending him back. The other struck at Imperial with a sword, but the war horse had spun again, lips peeled back from powerful teeth and Imperial bit down on the transformed man’s arm, tearing through skin. 

The Templars retreated from the giant horse, and Imperial planted himself in front of her, lashing out at all that tried to get to her. Even though it seemed as if Corypheus’s plans were ruined, apparently he still wanted her in his control. Imperial, though, was an impenetrable guard, fierce and powerful.

Bolt after green bolt flew from the Orb in Corypheus’s hands, striking at Cullen, at others around the room. Was that Keeper Solas at Cullen’s side? Ari’elle blinked in amazement. Her mentor slammed the butt of his staff against the ground, bolts of energy flying at Corypheus, curling around behind the shield and hitting the Magister in the back. The battle ranged, and she saw that Cullen’s soldiers were pressing their advantage. But she had killed Corypheus once, and it had done nothing. 

Frantically, Ari’elle whirled through ideas, discarding one after the other. Another brilliant green light blinded the room, and her arm burned in shared energy, paining her. 

Yes. Ari’elle’s eyes locked on the Orb. She knew what to do. 

Ari’elle tried to lift her left hand, but she couldn’t do anything more than wiggle it. That small movement caused tears to threaten again, from the pain in her shoulder but also from the fear that she might not be able to do what she had planned. 

Gritting her teeth, Ari’elle used her right hand to hold up her left, extending her palm. Then, calling on the magic tying her and the Orb together, she pulled. The connection between her palm and the sphere locked, magic surging into her arm. Ari’elle screamed through her teeth, waiting for that solidifying tether to form.

Corypheus raised the Orb glowing on high, and gestured. Instead of the magic obeying like it had been, the Orb stayed connected with Ari’elle, not obey his commands. He glared up at the implement, then Ari’elle saw his eyes flare. He spun to look at her. 

Cullen pressed his attack, slashing out with his sword and striking at Corypheus’s side. The metal bit into his robes, catching him at the waist, but Corypheus didn’t even seem to notice. Instead, he jerked away from the blade still stuck in his flesh and ran towards her.

Ari’elle’s eyes widened and she stopped breathing. Come on! With one last push of power, the connection finally caught. With a scream, Ari’elle yanked her left hand back. The Orb sailed through the room, flying through the air to where she lay crumpled. 

Ari’elle dropped her left arm and it flopped uselessly to the side. Relying on her training, Ari’elle caught the Orb with her right hand, shifted just slightly, and then threw it with all her might. 

As if all fighting had stopped, Ari’elle watched the Orb fly straight and true. It hit the _Eluvian_ at its far side, the dense stone of it breaking straight through the fragile glass. In slow motion, Ari’elle saw the cracks spread out from the spherical damage, shattering the magical mirror into millions of pieces. In the spray of silver, the Orb smacked into the wall, breaking the mosaics of the Andruil mural where it hit. And she saw it fall in three pieces, the glow of magic slowly dying until it was just shards of carved stone rocking on the floor. 

Ari’elle felt numbing relief spreading all through her, and she dropped to her side, jarring everything in her body. She couldn’t feel anything but pain anymore, had no energy left to right herself.

Black stars winked in her vision again, but before she blacked out, she noticed two things.

The first was Cullen, screaming. “Ari!” She couldn’t see him, but something about her name tugged at her. He sounded… genuinely worried for her. More emotional than she had heard him in weeks.

The other caught her attention more, though. Ari’elle stared at the mural now completely exposed by the breaking of the _Eluvian_. Andruil stood, surrounded by four snow white owls. Each pair of yellow eyes stared down at where she lay, reading deep into her soul. They ruffled their feathers and blinked once. 

Owls. Andruil’s personal messengers. Every elf knew that Andruil sent them to her followers, to guide them in their life when they needed her. 

Andruil, her messengers around her and holding her bow, then coolly smiled her blessing at Ari’elle.

Moving murals. It was the last straw. Ari’elle fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So were the reveals anything like you thought they would be?


	39. Chapter 39

As the mirror shattered, a hush settled over the room. Cullen’s shout of “Ari!” echoed into the sudden still. No one moved. Cullen’s eyes were fixed on the slumped figure of Ari’elle, but he heard the elven mage next to him suck in a breath of surprise. 

Cullen tore his eyes away and looked at the elf Solas. He stood braced against his staff, staring at the wall now completely revealed by the broken mirror. A quick glance around the room showed most Red Templars down, and everyone’s else’s eyes also pinned to the wall.

Cullen shifted his fighting stance, preparing for another attack from the deformed Magister, but he too was enthralled. Swallowing, Cullen turned his attention to the mural. Just in time to see the mosaic figure move. 

Adrenaline surged through his veins and he gaped. Impossible! But he couldn’t ignore what he was seeing. 

The female elf in the stone work looked up from Ari’elle, the slight lifting of her lips disappearing as she locked her gaze on Corypheus. Her tiled eyes went hard, cold. Cullen shivered; her displeasure powerful enough to bring a tingle to the air, a tangible presence that swirled through the room. 

“Andruil,” Solas breathed, his tone astonished. The woman was known to him; a powerful figure?

The name seemed to snap Corypheus from his trance, and he straightened to his immense height. “Cease and desist,” He growled out, “Bow to the power of the Imperium!” The red lyrium studded all over Corypheus’s body started to glow, a crackling energy forking through a grey mist that seeped from him as he gathered magic. With an outstretched arm, he sent a red ray up to the woman’s face on the wall, then another and another.

Before the magic hit, the woman snapped her fingers, her expression unchanged at the incoming spells. Instantly the owls around her started to beat their wings and a roaring wind ripped through the air. Corypheus’s spells were torn from their path, sucked into the tempest that now swirled in a funnel around the cavernous room. 

Cullen felt the powerful tug of the winds on his clothes, felt off balance as the cyclone gained in power. Cries were lost in the roar of sound, but he saw his soldiers stagger towards the center and relative safety of the eye of the storm. And Corypheus, his eyes and movements wild, kept up his intense barrage of magic, growing more and more frantic as each spell was so easily pulled from his control.

“Ari’elle!” Cullen yelled, the words instantly swallowed up by the blasting winds. He hunched down, using his shield to try to block some of the gusts. Andruil’s storm raged, the dark winds obscuring all vision of where Ari’elle had lain with Imperial standing guard over her. But the mural, Andruil herself, shone in stark relief through it all.

Rubble started to rain on his shield, chunks of stone clattering noisily. Cullen felt stark terror pull at him. Ari’elle wouldn’t be able to fight the wind. She would be sucked up into it and dashed against the stones, or cut to pieces by the rapidly moving debris. Cullen felt sick; she couldn’t be gone already. She was alright, she had to be. He needed to stop this now!

Fighting the pull of the hurricane, Cullen hunkered down, his eyes fixed on where Corypheus still hurled invocations, the Magister growing more agitated as he seemed to realize the futileness of his actions. The chaotic spells were making no headway against the magical barrier the woman had created. Whatever Ari’elle had done had weakened him; the orb he had been holding had seemed to amplify his powers, made him impervious to being hurt. Now he hunched to one side, the deep gash Cullen had inflicted earlier bleeding profusely. 

Each step felt as if he were dragging himself through mud, fighting against the power that roared around him. Cullen inched forward, close enough he could hear Corypheus’s maniacal voice, screaming in a foreign language, laughing hysterically. 

He braced himself upwind of the Magister and dropped his shield. Gathering the pommel of his sword in both hands, Cullen prepared himself. 

Corypheus. This tainted being had something to do with Evangelina. Had somehow made it so that he had been trapped in a fog; blindly obeying the bidding of spoiled shrew. Thedas had descended into madness because of his lust for power. Corypheus had tricked Ari’elle, had set her up for death from the very beginning. And Cullen may have lost Ari’elle because of it, despite everything. 

Rage built in the back of his throat, and Cullen reared back, a roar of his own spilling from his lips, and he struck true. The crazed Magister lurched as Cullen’s sword pierced up through his ribs and through his heart. 

For a moment Corypheus froze, his arms still raised in preparation for another hopeless spell. Then his eerie, too-human eyes slowly looked down at where Cullen’s sword remained impaled in his body. Blood bubbled from his twisted lips, and his eyes locked with Cullen’s. Bewilderment touched his features, the Magister uncomprehending of what had just occurred. 

With a snarl, Cullen ripped his sword away, fighting the wind to keep watching. Corypheus lowered his hands and clutched his sides, hunching into himself. He slowly fell to his knees, blood seeping from between his fingers and from his mouth. After a moment, though, he struggled to right himself, a spark evident in his eyes. A cunning look descended over his greying features and he lifted his hands from the gash. Corypheus was dying, but he somehow had more in store. 

The blood on Corypheus’s hands levitated, hovering above the mage’s palms despite the wind that yanked at the drops. His eyes grew opaque, dark spots rose to the surface of his skin. A glow started to emanate from within him, cracks of red breaking angrily over every visible surface. 

Blood magic! Cullen felt fear suck at him, and he felt a tremble race down his spine. For a moment, he was transported back, his past clouding the moment. The screams, the terror, his torture. With steely will, Cullen pushed it all away, focusing on what was happening now. 

Could Corypheus still heal himself from such a mortal blow? Anyone else would have been dead already; a blow through the heart meant instantaneous death. Was this… creature truly beyond mortal status?

Suddenly the female on the mural moved. With the smoothness of ancient skill, she raised her bow, aimed it, and paused. An icy smile touched her lips as she and Corypheus battled with their scrutiny. Then, with a casual flick of her fingers, she released her clutch.

No arrow burst from the wall, though. Instead, a torrent of lightning forked from where the arrow would have pierced the mural. The jagged branches sliced through the winds and pounded into Corypheus. The mage’s screams were shrill, penetrating through all other sound, digging past the dulling roar of wind. Cullen flinched and slapped his hands over his ears, struggling to keep his eyes trained on what was happening.

The lightning arched through Corypheus’s body, stiffened unnaturally, his limbs shaking with the force of the magic twisting through him. The scent of scorched flesh filled the room, and Cullen gagged. His eyes watered and he couldn’t keep them open any longer. He no longer fought the instinct to protect himself, and sank down to his knees and covered his head.

After a forever time filled with screams and stark fear, the winds vanished, disappearing as if they had never been. Hesitantly Cullen raised his head from beneath his arms, looking to where Corypheus had been.

There he was still, a now crumpled bulk of scorched… mush. Bile rose in his throat, and Cullen turned away, shaking his head. Corypheus wasn’t important anymore. He was dead. 

Cullen pushed himself to a stand, and raced across the room before he had looked to see if Ari’elle was still there. But she lay where she had fallen, exactly the same, as if there hadn’t been a tornado around her. 

Cullen brushed past Imperial, a hasty, “Stand down”, enough to make his stallion back away. He dropped to his knees next to Ari’elle, and gently brushed her curls from her face. Her eyes were closed and lips slack, her skin pale beneath bruises. His heart thumping erratically, he cupped his hand over her nose and mouth. A faint puff of hair brushed against his skin, and Cullen shuddered, a relief so great filling him he had to brace his hands on the floor and drop his head to breathe through the dizziness and blackness that threatened to pull him into a faint.

The sound of someone approaching him made Cullen snap back to focus, and he tensed and opened his eyes, prepared to defend the unconscious woman. But it was the elven mage who quickly took a place next to him, and Cullen dismissed him for the moment.

“Ari,” Cullen gently called, slowly brushing his hands down her arms, along her legs. “Ari, sweet, wake up.” When he could find no obvious broken bones, Cullen turned his attention back to her face. “Ari, listen. You must wake up.” He patted her cheeks, avoiding the purpling bruises standing out so starkly.

Ari’elle moaned, her head shifting slightly. Cullen gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers. Maker, he was useless! She could have internal bleeding, head trauma, or other serious injury and Cullen couldn’t do a thing about it.

“Permit me,” Solas murmured and Cullen looked at the elf, desperate for help, even from someone he had met less than twenty-four hours ago. 

Solas reached out and gently rolled Ari’elle to her back. She cried out in pain as her left arm flopped to the side, tears slipping from her closed eyelids. “Ari,” Cullen instantly smoothed his fingers over her forehead, wiping away her tears with gentle strokes of his thumbs. Her hair had fallen away from her neck, and Cullen saw the ring of bruises around her neck, harsh and unforgiving. Someone had choked her. His chest tightened and his gut twisted. Pain, rage, helplessness stole his mind, made him wish that Corypheus was alive again just so that he could return the favor to the miserable maggot. 

Ari’elle shifted again, whimpering, and Cullen pushed away his anger. It was done, Corypheus gone. Ari’elle needed help now. “Shh, sweet girl. You are alright; we will make sure of it.”

Cullen kept up his soothing motions and looked at Solas with wide eyes, helpless. “What do we do? What is wrong?”

A furrow appeared between the elves brows, pointed features narrowing down at Ari’elle. “Her shoulder is dislocated.” Cullen closed his eyes. He knew what would need to be done. It was a painful task to set a joint. He opened his eyes to see Solas palpitating her stomach, feeling at her organs. 

He didn’t breathe as he alternated watching Solas’s expression and Ari’elle’s features. She flinched a few times, Cullen becoming more and more tense as Solas continued with his slow, silent exam. The blasted elf didn’t reveal anything on his face. Was she hurt? Did she need a healing potion or something like it? The intent, slightly grim look shook him, and Cullen just wanted to bark at the man. Solas moved to her face, lifting her lids and carefully looking into her unresponsive eyes. Cullen barely kept himself in check, his body practically vibrating, but his hands still gentle as he reassured himself that Ari’elle still breathed. 

Finally the elf sighed and sat back on his heels, nodding with a slight smile. “She will be fine, once we set her shoulder. A few cracked ribs that can be mended, and some swelling from bruises, that is all.” 

Cullen sagged, and carefully withdrew his hands. For a moment he let the tremors take over as he gulped in breaths. Thank the Maker for that. 

Slowly Cullen raised his head and looked at the mural. The woman and the owl had resumed their previous poses. The broken pieces of the strange mirror were gone, along with the fragments of the sphere Ari’elle had pulled from Corypheus. It looked as if nothing had happened. But it had happened. And the woman was obviously more than just a magical illusion. She was… a Goddess of the elven pantheon, wasn’t she? 

“Thank you,” Cullen whispered to her, but the mural remained lifeless. Mosaics laid out in an intricate picture, unmoving, unresponsive.

“Inquisitor,” Solas said, and Cullen turned back to Ari’elle, feeling much calmer now. “Hold her body steady so she doesn’t jerk, and I will set her arm.” Cullen pressed his lips together, not looking forward to this task. Cullen pulled himself closer to her torso, rising up on his knees. He set one arm just below her rib cage, and the other hand he pressed flat against her chest. He could feel Ari’elle’s heart beat against his palm, the rhythm a little too fast. But it was steady, strong. Perfect.

Cullen took a breath and looked to Solas. The elf murmured, “I’m glad she is unconscious for this.” Then, with deft movements, Solas lifted her wrist, bent her elbow, and positioned her arm. Ari’elle whimpered at the movement, her body tensing beneath Cullen’s hands. Solas then slowly and firmly pulled her arm directly away from her body. 

Ari’elle cried out in hurt, and she tried to move away from the slow slide of her shoulder. Abruptly, the joint snapped back into its proper place, and it was over. Solas immediately felt along her arm, checking pulse points. Ari’elle sagged back into the ground, sighing deeply as the pain receded. 

“I have a mixture that will help be of use to her,” Solas stood and dusted his hands off. “Outside. I suggest, now that the fighting is over, we leave this temple and adjourn to where our clan is residing.”

Cullen nodded, suddenly exhausted. Vaguely, he looked around the room, feeling ashamed that he had not noticed his soldiers dispatching the last of the Red Templars, nor the wounded receiving their own medical care. Thankfully, he noted, no one else seemed to be lying down; a good sign that there were no other serious injuries. 

As if just waiting for him to focus on the world again, a small band of friends rushed to where Cullen and Ari’elle still stayed on the floor.

“She’ll need this,” Varric presented a large swath of cloth. “A sling for that shoulder of hers.” Cullen took it with a heartfelt thanks, carefully positioning the material so it held her arm. 

“Damned foolish of her, taking on Corypheus alone.” Dorian chided, but Cullen could hear the pride behind his words. Maybe when Cullen could use his brain again, he would feel pride too. Right now though, all he felt was relief she was still alive, and a bone-deep weariness.

When was the last time he had truly slept? The past few days had been a blur of riding, maybe a few hours of snatched sleep when they had had to stop and rest. Then before that? While he had been locked in the spell? Had he been sleeping well during that time, or just in a sort of trance? 

Cullen braced his hands on his knees, trying to find the strength to lift Ari’elle up. He ran a hand through his wind-ragged hair and prepared to pick up the unconscious elf. 

“Boss,” The Iron Bull said gently, kneeling down next to Cullen. “You get up on your horse, there. I’ll lift her to you.” Cullen looked at the qunari, and he saw compassion and empathy in his green eye. 

“Thank you, Bull,” Cullen clapped a hand on his friend’s giant shoulder, using him as a leveraging point to stand up. With a short whistle, Imperial came trotting up to Cullen’s side. The stallion ducked his head and gently touched Ari’elle’s knee, a low, worried wicker coming from the barrel chest. Cullen couldn’t help but smile as he clumsily hauled himself into his saddle. Even his horse was taken with Ari’elle. 

Bull gently lifted Ari’elle and brought her to Cullen. Together they slipped her legs over one side and settled her against Cullen’s chest. He wrapped a hand around her waist, wishing that his armor would disappear so she would be more comfortable. That, and that he could feel her. Fully feel her warmth pressed to him, to reassure himself that this was real. That she was alive and in his arms.

Sera, uncharacteristically quiet, led Imperial out of the temple, keeping the pace nice and slow so not to jar Ari’elle. They reached the other horses, left outside the temple walls. Ari’elle’s horse was with their group.

It had been relatively easy following her flight from Skyhold. Cullen’s veteran guard had caught up with Sera, Dorian, Varric and The Iron Bull on the pathway, and they had instantly joined with them, retracing the path she had taken months ago. But once they had reached the forests edge and had seen Ari’elle’s mare grazing, her gear set to the side, Cullen had felt panic creep up. Ari’elle would have never left a trail on her own. They would have needed one of the most talented scouts to show them where Ari’elle had gone.

Then, an elf riding the back of a giant hart had melted out from the shadows of the forest. “Hurry!” he had called, “Ari’elle is in grave danger; She is almost to Corypheus now!” Cullen had instantly urged Imperial forward, following the mysterious elf. Somehow introductions were made, but Cullen didn’t remember when or how anymore. Solas could have been working for Corypheus, but Cullen had taken a chance, one that had paid off magically.

Solas now came up to Cullen, holding aloft a little wooden bottle. “When she wakes, have her drink this.” Cullen carefully tucked it within easy access. “It will help ease her pain and speed her healing.”

“Thank you, Keeper Solas,” Cullen breathed out, readjusting his grip on Ari’elle. “I will never be able to express my gratitude enough.” Cullen closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Ari’elle’s curls, breathing in her warm scent and rested.

Solas slowly looked over the two, noting the possessive way Cullen had his arm curled around Ari’elle. How the human male rested his forehead against the top of her head, his eyes closed, his face drawn in barely leashed emotion. His brows quirked for a moment. How interesting. Andruil could not have predicted this. He smoothed the smile of mischief that wanted to form on his lips. Her Chosen had been chosen by another. And he didn’t doubt that Ari’elle would follow her own heart… just as she always had.

“Let’s move out. Everyone could use the rest.” Solas flicked his eyes to the now abandoned temple. Without the disguising magical defenses in place, it would be exposed to all. Andruil’s sacred place would decay and wither, as almost all the others had.

For a flash of a moment, static blue lightning shimmered through Solas’s eyes. Then, the seemingly normal elf blinked and it disappeared as if it had never been. He turned, mounted his hart, and led the soldiers away. 

***

“Cullen?” He jolted at the sound of Ari’elle’s voice, confused and husky from sleep.

He leaned back, angling to see her face, “Yes, Ari sweet, it’s me.” He dropped his reins, Imperial keeping to the ambling walk they had been traveling at. With the sound of her voice, his horse had lifted his head, his ears twitching back.

Ari’elle blinked up at him, her brows drawn into an adorable frown. “You’re here.” Slowly her frown slid away, replaced by that glorious smile that she used to bestow on him. The one that lit up her up; warmth and goodness flowing from her. His heart kicked, too big for his chest. Maker, he loved that smile. She tucked her head beneath his chin, and sighed happily. “I love my dreams.”

Cullen blinked. She dreamt of him? Wait, she thought she was dreaming? Sadness crashed through him. Of course she thought it was a dream. With the way he had been treating her before she left, she couldn’t think it was reality. Maker, he had so much to make up for.

“Ow,” Ari’elle shifted in his arms, “My shoulder.” 

Cullen instantly reached for the bottle, pulling the cork with his teeth. “Here. Drink this; your Keeper said it will help with the pain.”

Ari’elle sat upright again, this time a little pout puffing out her lower lip. Cullen dropped his eyes to the delicate lines etched down the center of her delectable mouth. A sharp spear of heat struck him, and he hastily pressed the potion into her hands. 

“Keeper?” Ari’elle chewed her lip for a moment, her eyes half lidded as she looked up to him.

Cullen just nodded. “Drink,” he urged, “I will explain everything soon.”

Her dark brown eyes clearly held questions, but she lifted the wooden vessel to her lips and drank the contents. She dropped her hand to her lap again, an exhausted sigh escaping her parted lips as she settled back into his chest.

Cullen snagged the bottle from her lax fingers and stored it away. Now that she was awake of her own volition, he prayed that she would find more rest. She needed it after what she had just been through. “Sleep, sweet girl, if you can. We are going to meet up with your clan.”

Ari’elle mumbled something and nodded her head against his neck. Her even breathes feathered over his skin for long moments, and Cullen thought she had fallen asleep.

A giggle dispelled that notion.

Another one quickly followed. 

“It isn’t my fault Keeper is bald.” 

Cullen let out a half laugh, completely surprised at her words. “What?” 

Indignantly, Ari’elle straightened and protested. “It’s not!” Her eyes were wide, fire sparking in the depths.

Cullen’s lips twitched, and he slowly drawled out, “Somehow Ari, knowing you, I think it is exactly your fault.”

Her mouth dropped open in an exaggerated look of disbelief. Then it was quickly replaced with self-righteous primness. “It isn’t my fault the honeycomb fell on his head! It was supposed to be Marron sneaking after me.” She attempted to cross her arms over her chest, the one hand locked in the sling and her free hand clumsily shooting past her clothed elbow, knocking her injured arm. Cullen tensed, prepared to help her in case she hurt herself. Ari’elle just frowned for a second, and muttered a low “Ow.” She then switched back to her previous look, forgetting all about her arm. “So it isn’t my fault he had to shave his head. Apparently honey doesn’t just wash out from dreads.” 

Cullen couldn’t help himself. He laughed, the warm bubble of amusement spreading through his stomach, filling his chest. His head fell back as it rippled out of him. The surprise attack of humor, coupled with the relief of finding her alive, broke through the last of the cold darkness that had been with him for so many days now.

“It’s not!” Ari’elle’s voice rose, attempting to be heard above his laughter. 

Solas suddenly dropped back, his hart taking a place next to them. 

“Keeper!” Ari’elle cried, “Tell him it wasn’t my fault!” Her eyes were wide, pleading with the elf. Solas just looked bemused, glancing between Cullen’s smiling face and Ari’elle’s attempted seriousness offset by her twitching lips as she tried not to giggle.

Before Solas could say anything, Sera pushed into the group. “Oh!” Ari’elle cried, leaning way over to see her friend, “Sera! Sera, Sera, Sera!”

Cullen hastily scrambled, latching his arm more firmly around her to keep her from sliding off Imperial. 

“Sera! You should give Solas your hat to cover the fact he’s bald. But not because of me! The one with the ribbons and feathers and flowers and fruit!” Ari’elle frowned in intense concentration for a second, before she quickly switched back to a jubilant expression, “And butterflies!” 

Cullen choked as laughter again threatened, his eyes shooting to the scowling Keeper. It would certainly be a sight. Sera laughed loudly, snorting as she picked up volume. Ari’elle dissolved into giggles, slumping against his chest. Cullen chuckled, his smile refusing to diminish as others around them started to laugh, the mood of the group suddenly lifting and changing.

Was this Ari’elle’s magic? The ability to make everyone around her happy and utterly under her charming thrall?

Solas’s lips twitched, and he shook his head in mock disparagement. “The potion occasionally affects some individuals this way.” Ari’elle started chattering to Sera, shifting and scrambling in Cullen’s arms so she could include Varric and Dorian riding behind them in her enchanting babbling. Cullen carefully held onto her, making sure she was safely anchored and wouldn’t knock herself too badly.

Ari’elle climbed on him, her free hand slipping down the collar of his garments, gripping his bare shoulder as she rose up to her knees. This placed her breasts right before his face, a fact he couldn’t help but notice in very vivid detail. Cullen gulped, fighting the heat that threatened to rise in him as she shifted against him. Ari’elle seemed oblivious as she started stroking his skin. Oblivious, too, of all the interested eyes watching her casually caress him.

Cullen couldn’t feel any embarrassment, though. After everything that they had been through, he relished each of her touches. His little temptress.

A flash of memory came to him. She had done something very similar, way back at her first glance of Skyhold. The desire she roused in him now, though, was greater. If such a thing were possible.

Cullen looked over to where Solas fought his own laughter. “Will she remember any of this later?” 

A curl lifted Solas’s lips, and he shook his head. “It is unlikely.” 

Cullen chuckled and tightened his arm, giving Ari’elle a squeeze. She looked down at him, a huge smile on her cheerful face. He resisted the urge to lick into her mouth, bestow on her the kiss he desperately wanted to give her. Instead he lifted his hand and drew her head down and pressed his lips to her forehead, the tip of her arrow _vallaslin_ , firm and extensive. Ari’elle’s nails curled into his skin, holding him to her. Catcalls and comments rose up from the group around them, and he felt heat rise in his cheeks, but he didn’t mind it.

He broke away and leaned closer to her mouthwateringly pointed ear. “We will talk when you are sober again.”

“Oh,” she pouted, shaking her head slightly, “Not kiss?” Her darkened eyes latched onto his lips and she worried her lush bottom lip with her teeth, obviously thinking about it.

Cullen puffed out a breath at the lust that twisted through his gut. Hopefully she would still feel that way after he had apologized profusely and groveled before her. “Talk first.”

“Okay,” She said grudgingly, then beamed happily down at him. 

Cullen just laughed and squeezed her carefully as his love giggled again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am thinking next chapter will be the last! I hope you all have enjoyed the ride!
> 
> If you are so inclined, I started a Patreon as well... if you would like to check it out, here is the link:  Patreon Page 


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for how long it took me to write this chapter! On three separate occasions, lost about 1,000 k words each time. It was very frustrating!

Ari’elle slowly opened her eyes, staring at the wood she made out above her. She blinked rapidly, waiting for her brain to process what she was seeing. Wood? Where was she? Slowly it dawned on her; she was inside one of the clan’s _aravels._ How… odd.

Her body ached slightly, enough that she didn’t want to move, so she lay as she was on her back. She squinted, trying to remember what had happened last. She had been swaying, rocking back and forth. And she had been talking to people… right? And Cullen…

Ari’elle jerked, wide awake now. Cullen had been here! He had come! She scrambled underneath the blankets, twisting so that she faced the side.

And there her human was, in shirtsleeves slumped against the _araval’s_ wall. His hair was tousled over his forehead, eyes closed in sleep. Daylight filtered in from outside, faintly highlighting the edge of one square jaw. He looked exhausted despite his rest, mouth slightly open and lax. Why did he look so tired?

The tension drained from her body and she stayed on the pallet, watching him breathe slowly. The rush of adrenaline dissipated, and in its place worry plagued her. What if he had come to put her under some kind of arrest? Did he hate her now? She frowned, screwing her eyes closed. Why couldn’t she remember what he had said yesterday? Had he been angry with her?

Oh, Creators. He had to have read her letter. The one where she had told him she had made a deal with Corypheus. The one where she had told him she loved him. What must he think of her? Would he even acknowledge her confession? 

Ari’elle opened her eyes and swallowed. Well, there was one way to find out. Hesitantly she raised her voice, “Cullen?” Her voice cracked, her throat dry. When he did nothing more than shift his shoulders, Ari’elle called a little louder. “Cullen?”

Abruptly Cullen’s eyes snapped open, the familiar amber focusing on where she lay. He leaned forward, concern drawing his brows together. “Ari,” He said lowly, carefully. He reached forward but hesitated before touching the blanket over her arm. He closed his hand into a fist and braced his elbows on his knees. “How are you feeling?”

She blinked, surprised. Pleasantly so, but she was surprised. The last time they had talked, Cullen hadn’t really even seemed to acknowledge her. However now there was worry in his tired eyes. Ari’elle thought that he was truly seeing her, truly cared what her response would be. And he didn’t appear angry, an encouraging sign.

So dutifully in reaction to his question, Ari’elle took catalogue of herself. Slowly she stretched, feeling her muscles protest, some slight ache from more than just inactivity. As she rolled her shoulders and neck, a dull throb emanated from her left shoulder, and she frowned. “Stiff. And my shoulder…” She frowned and pondered the slight offending ache. What had happened?

“Your shoulder was dislocated.” His jaw clenched tight for a second before he continued. “And you have been asleep for the past two days.”

“Two days!” Ari’elle gaped. She had never slept so long before! No wonder she was so thirsty. And hungry. And felt as if she hadn’t moved in forever. Because she hadn’t.

A whole host of questions sprung to mind. Where was Corypheus? How had they gotten away? Had she just imagined seeing her Keeper? And she had just been senseless when she had seen a mural move, right? 

Her mind quieted though when she looked up into Cullen’s face. There was a strange play of emotions making their way over his features. Ones she recognized from before Denerim, others she had never seen before. He had read her letter, he knew how she felt. And suddenly there was only one question she needed to have answered. “Why are you here Cullen?”

He gazed down at her with an unreadable expression, finally opening his mouth to speak. Before a syllable passed his lips, however, Ari’elle’s stomach roared its anger. 

For a second both of them froze. A giggle bubbled from Ari’elle’s lips, the moment too humorous to ignore, despite her urgent need for an answer. Cullen’s lips twitched. He closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“Forgive me Ari. You need to take care of yourself first.” The warm honey of his eyes locked with hers once more, the amusement sliding from his face. “But, when you are ready, you and I need to talk. Privately. Just the two of us.” For a second, he burned with an intensity that made tingles race up her spine and down her limbs, sending her heart thundering.

Ari’elle gulped, then opened her lips to argue, but Cullen turned away, speaking as he made his stooped way towards the door. “There is water to wash with, and some clothing. Outside we have food and drink for you.” He opened the door and turned back to her. “Just take it easy; you are still recovering.”

A sudden, unwelcome thought popped into her head, and she sat upright quickly, ignoring the uncomfortableness of the movement and his exasperated look as she directly disobeyed his order. “Cullen, wait! Evangelina! I know you…” She licked her lips then forced herself to continue. “That you and she…” When she faltered again, Ari’elle skipped ahead. “But you must believe me! She is possessed with a demon! Corypheus told me, that she and him did something-” 

Cullen tensed, then spoke in a clipped tone. “Evangelina is currently locked up in Skyhold’s dungeons. She is not a threat any longer.” Ari’elle’s mouth dropped open. His features gentled and he continued in a smoother manner, “There is much we need to discuss.” 

Vaguely Ari’elle nodded, disbelief swirling through her. He had locked Evangelina up? But he had been so… What had happened? Perhaps that meant that she and Cullen could be friends again? Her heart pounded in her chest, far too loud. Surely he could hear it beating. She could feel her words lying between them, a hope she couldn’t dismiss. Did he feel them too?

“Maker,” he cursed softly, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He suddenly looked even more exhausted, and Ari’elle felt a pang of worry; perhaps he should be sleeping instead of talking. “I’m sorry Ari. So sorry. If I could go back…” He shook his head and pinned her with his stare again. “First, you need to eat.  
After I will explain everything.”

Then Cullen turned and shut the door. For a time Ari’elle stayed frozen, her thoughts in a muddle. She jumped from Evangelina, to Cullen’s apology, to her mix of hopefulness and trepidation, flitting over his words but unable to figure out what they meant. 

With a burst of energy, Ari’elle broke from the bed and hurried out of her clothes. All her answers lay outside the _aravel_ , and so she need to get there. She washed quickly, and sort of brushed through her clean curls, tossing the wet mess over her shoulder to dry.

On the foot of the bed lay two sets of clothing. The first was a Dalish outfit… and the second was her clothing, the ones she had left behind. A lump of tears caught at her throat and shimmered in her eyes. A slightly shaking hand brushed over the jacket, touching the Inquisition insignia. Cullen had brought her things for her. 

With a watery sniff, Ari’elle changed into her Inquisition clothing, and she felt a sense of wellbeing come over her. No matter what happened, these were hers; they were what she belonged in.

Ari’elle then wrenched open the _aravel_ doors and hopped down to the ground. And was immediately crushed in a Sera-shaped hug. 

 

“You stupid, idiotic… daft…” Sera mumbled against Ari’elle’s shoulder, squeezing her ribs in a slightly too-tight fashion. Ari’elle patted at her friend’s shoulders as the loving insults continued in the same vein, hoping that Sera’s strength would give out soon. Sera finally pulled back with a finishing “Arsehole!” And then not too gently punched Ari’elle in her good shoulder. 

Ari’elle laughed, knowing her friend was just concerned with her. Then others enveloped her in gentler affection; Dorian with a gentle one-armed clasp around her shoulders, Varric with his-shoulder-to-her-rib bump, and Bull with a hair tousle that destroyed her previous halfhearted taming attempts. 

As they herded her across the clearing, Ari’elle got a chance to see where they were. It was the same spot she had left her clan, only they had all moved on. The single _aravel_ looked lonely without the others around it. There was a small camp set up, a fire burning with food warming over it. A handful of Inquisition soldiers sprawled around the area, giving her encouraging greetings. No one appeared irritated with her, a fact that lifted a weight from her shoulders. Did they know all she had done and why they were here?

Cullen was ladling some stew into a bowl when they arrived at the fire. And next to him-

“Keeper!” Ari’elle cried and flew into Solas’s arms. 

“Da’len,” Solas murmured, gently giving her a squeeze. “It is good to see you.”

Ari’elle felt tears burn the back of her eyes, and she held onto her Keeper fiercely. For a moment she was transported back to when she was just a little one, running to him with a scrape, her nose dripping from her tears, or with one of her incessant questions. No one had been more of a father to her than Solas, both as First and as Keeper. 

“Keeper,” She cleared her throat and pulled back, smiling up at him brightly. “I’m so glad you are here!” Ari’elle paused and then frowned. “But, why are you here? You should be with the clan! And what happened? Where is Corypheus? How did we get back here?”

Keeper chuckled and shook his head. “One thing at a time, da’len.” He gently sat down, and Ari’elle followed his example. Within seconds Cullen had pressed the steaming bowl into her hand, a very pointed look between her and her food.

Obediently Ari’elle started shoveling mouthfuls away, conscious again of her gnawing hunger. Cullen passed her a mug of cool water, and she emptied it without breathing, holding it out for seconds as she chewed.

After a few minutes of comfortable conversation and Ari’elle’s ravenous consumption, Keeper spoke up. “Now Ari’elle. What was the last thing you remember of your fight with Corypheus?”

Slowly, Ari’elle lowered her bowl, thinking back. “I remember… pulling the Orb to me and throwing it. And…” Ari’elle hesitated, unsure if she should mention she had seen a mural move. It had probably been a figment of her imagination after all.

“Andruil?” Solas asked gently.

Ari’elle jerked her head up, her eyes wide. “Yes,” she breathed, then shook her head. “But how can that be possible?”

Solas’s eyes took on a faraway sheen, and he suddenly looked ancient beyond his years. “Although they are not what they once were, the Pantheon still lingers, in their way.” His eyes snapped back to the present. “It is how I knew to look for you. It is why Andruil chose you, sent her messengers to you. She knew at some point you would have a part to play in her future.”

Overwhelmed, Ari’elle just uttered a quiet “Oh.” Her hand crept up and touched her chin, the feathers of her _vallaslin_. 

Sera chimed in, “Wa-wa-wait.” She crossed her arms and scowled, “You're sayin’ elfy people actually got gods? Real ones? Not made up?”

Solas frowned, unamused at her skepticism. “I assure you, the Pantheon was, and is, real.” He gave her his best _hahren_ look down his nose, “You should feel it yourself, Elvhan as you are.”

Sera shuddered, “Ewww, nope. Nope, nope, nope.”

Keeper rolled his eyes, a look so very familiar to Ari’elle she couldn’t help but snort. Solas sent her a glare, but Ari’elle just pasted an innocent look on her face and inquired, “So what happened after the Eluvian broke?”

“The Orb broke as well, an unintended consequence, I think, to your goal of keeping Corypheus from gaining access to the power of the Eluvian. That being had been twisting the Orb’s original purpose, using it to amplify his power exponentially, to protect himself. When it shattered, Andruil was able to intervene directly.”

Spellbound, Ari’elle listened to Keeper tell her the details of the fight she had missed. How Keeper had led the Inquisition band to Andruil’s temple and fought their way through the guards in the courtyard. Of the whirlwind tempest, the attempted blood magic, and of Andruil’s magic finally killing the tainted Magister.

“Are you sure? Is he really dead?” The paralyzing fear she had felt at seeing Corypheus alive and well after shooting him through the spine echoed through her now. She shivered as she hurried on, “I killed him once before you arrived. My arrow severed his neck; I saw him dying on the ground. I was able to escape from the room, but was caught and brought back inside.” She didn’t see Cullen tense, his hands fist and flex at his sides, the fear her words viscerally brought to him. “Moments passed, only moments, and yet he was as if I had never touched him!”

Keeper looked her square in the eye, confident and steady. “Andruil had her vengeance. Corypheus will trouble us no more.”

Ari’elle looked to Cullen, “So… it is over?” The enormity of what had transpired grew, the truth bringing a giddy elation tingling through her. 

Cullen’s grin chased the shadows and fatigue from his face, sharing with her the heady rush, “Yes, Ari. It is over.”

Jubilantly Ari’elle flopped back on the grass, laughing as a heavy burden melted away. Corypheus was done! The Inquisition’s foe was defeated! No wonder everyone was merry. Their lives, everyone’s lives, had just become that much safer.

Laughter rippled around the group, and Ari’elle popped back up, looking to Cullen again. The tension he carried around his mouth and in his eyes was gone, something she had seen in him but rarely. She wanted to brush her thumbs along the smile hovering over his delectable lips, taste his happiness.

A sudden, lurching halt spun her back to her Keeper. “Oh! What of the Rifts? Are they gone as well?”

The light conversation around her halted, everyone turning to stare at Solas. Apparently this was not a question they had asked him. 

Keeper sighed wearily, “No, da’len, they remain still. The cataclysmic event that brought around the Breach and the subsequent Rifts will not be so quickly healed.”

Ari’elle brought her hand up and stared down at her palm. It no longer hurt or guided her, passive as it had been for most of her life. “And the Anchor?”

Solas frowned, “It still resides inside of you. From what I can tell, though, it is stronger. But it is not stable, if it ever was to begin with. I will need to remove it.”

Cullen leaned forward, frowning fiercely. “What do you mean?”

“The longer it remains within her, the more it will start to deteriorate her flesh. If we wait too long, she could lose her hand. Or worse.” 

Cullen straightened, determination stamped on his strong features. “Then you will remove it today.”

“No!” Ari’elle cried, her hand clenching around the invisible magic. “You can’t!”

“Ari,” Cullen shook his head, frowning fiercely. “It is too dangerous. I can’t let you take that risk.”

She jerked her chin up, stubborn on this point to perhaps her own detriment. “I have to. No one else will be able to close the Rifts, and I can’t let them remain. I have seen what comes from them, what evil is inflicted around them. I just can’t selfishly ignore that.” 

Cullen stood and started pacing. “Perhaps we can somehow force Evangelina to help, then you wouldn’t need to…”

“No,” Keeper cut in. “Her Anchor was only ever for show. She was never able to close Rifts; the magic would not work as it was intended when paired with a shemlan.”

Cullen cursed, his stride speeding up before abruptly stopping, looking down at the seated mage. “How long does she have before it starts to affect her?”

Solas’s eyes went distant again, and he spoke slowly. “A year, perhaps a little more. But beyond that… Once the degradation starts, it will only increase in speed.”

“Then I will just be very busy this coming year,” Ari’elle interjected, “And hope that I can close them all in that time. If not…” she shrugged, feeling a little scared at the prospect. She didn’t want to lose her hand, but she couldn’t let it drive her.

Dorian sighed from where he lounged, “I suppose that means we will be going too. Oh well. I have always wanted to try living a nomadic life style for months at a time.” His eyes twinkled sardonically. “Very… robust, wouldn’t you say?”

Ari’elle smiled gratefully. “Thank you, my friend. I would love to have you all join me.”

Varric chuckled, “Pretty much our thing now, isn’t it? Running around after you, one way or another.”

Ari’elle blushed slightly, but laughed at Varric’s light tone. He wasn’t one to hold a grudge; forgiving her for running away.

“Eh, wait!” Sera noisily pipped up, “I wanna come too! No fair you guys havin’ all the adventures!”

“We will have to find the most optimal routes.” Cullen muttered, seemingly oblivious to the conversation. “Cut out as much time as possible. I need to send out scouts immediately, coordinate with Leliana.” He briskly strode off, absorbed with his internal thoughts.

Ari’elle wet her lips and watched him walk away, a thundercloud on his brow. He was not pleased with the news about her Anchor. Perhaps he had been hoping the Rifts would all have sealed with Corypheus’s death. Ari’elle knew she had hoped for such an outcome herself. The news about her short deadline didn’t fill her with joy either, although a year seemed like it might just be enough time.

“Come on!” Varric burst to his feet. “With Red now awake, I think it is time for a celebration!” His mischievous smirk in place, Varric reached down a hand to her, “What do you say to some of the good stuff, huh?” He winked, and Ari’elle felt her mood lighten considerably. 

“Your private stash?” She grabbed his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “You’d really pull out all the stops?” she teased.

Varric shrugged, “What can I say; I’m a generous guy.” A general guffawing laugh rippled around the group, and within minutes there was an impromptu party happening. 

Everyone clustered around the fire, more food sizzling and adding delicious aromas to the air. Bull, not to be outdone by Varric, shared his alcohol as well, and soon there was relaxed laughter and joviality filling the clearing. Ari’elle stuffed herself, enjoying the company of those who still considered her a friend. Cullen rejoined them soon enough, but there was still an intenseness about him, and he spoke rarely. 

Ari’elle didn’t know her liquors yet, but whatever she was drinking was potent in the extreme. No one seemed upset by that fact, but Ari’elle took just a few sips, shaking her head at the fire the burned down her throat. She didn’t want to addle herself; she and Cullen were still planning on talking. In her many looks to her human, she saw that he was not drinking either. And he was looking to her just as often. 

Some time progressed, the sun sinking behind the trees. Warm dusk crept in, groups ebbing and flowing as the party continued. Ari’elle was standing with one of the old soldiers, sharing a mutual interest in the varying forest animals, when Cullen finally approached her.

“Ari,” He spoke softly, but there was a hint of the Commander beneath it all. Ari’elle’s heart thumped loudly, and the soldier slipped away discreetly. 

Ari’elle looked up at his face, the firelight burnishing little glimmering sparks in his curls, along the stubble of his jaw. For a second she was transported back to the first night she saw him, the night she had fallen in love with him, gazing at his sleeping face light by firelight. Hope, trepidation, and anticipation filled her chest, leaving little room for air. “Yes?” She asked breathlessly.

Cullen’s eyes bore into hers, and somehow the noise of everyone else dimmed, faded into the background. “Is there some place we can talk? Just you and me?”

Ari’elle nodded, gulping at the lump in her throat, and turned towards the forest. She heard him fall into step behind her, boot clad feet much heavier than her bare ones. She knew exactly where she would take him.

It was a good walk, the light from the fire disappearing quickly, replaced by moonlight. The further they went, the more distant the sound of the party became until the forest noises were all that was left. Ari’elle could feel his eyes on her, could feel the tension crackling in the air. Her racing heart did not slow in the slightest; there were so many possibilities of what he wanted to say to her, and she couldn’t help but imagine each horrible, glorious one.

Finally, they broke into a familiar clearing, and Ari’elle let out a sigh of relief. “Here,” she murmured, halting in the middle. 

Cullen turned slowly, looking around the grassy area. Was he as nervous about their talk as she was? He zeroed in on the vines creeping up one of the trees, making a beeline to where the large white blossoms were just now starting to unfurl in the bright light of the moon. “Your flowers,” He touched a finger to one velvet petal, shaking his head. He leaned in and breathed deeply of the sweet fragrance, and then straightened with a sigh. “I remembered this scent. From the night you saved me from the river.”

“You do?” Ari’elle’s voice came out too low, surprised and hesitant. He knew now that she had told him the truth? That she had come to his rescue that night, not Evangelina? “But you didn’t …”

Cullen turned, strong emotions playing over his moonlight features. “Yes, Ari. I do. It was this scent that finally helped me break the spell Evangelina had over me.”

“What?” Horror for him filled her and Ari’elle took an involuntary step forward, her hands reaching out to him before she forcefully stopped herself. She clenched her fists at her side, shaking her head. “You were under a spell? What did she do to you? What happened?” 

He stared at her, a tender intensity blazing from him. Ari’elle lost her breath again, tingles running all through her body. Creator’s, what a look, she thought in a daze. He took the few steps back to the middle of the clearing to her, his eyes never leaving her as he reached inside his mantle and pulled something from a pocket, resting against his heart. “What happened, Ari’elle, is that you saved me once again.” 

He deliberately, carefully unfolded a letter. A gasped left her lips; it was her letter! And Cullen had been carrying it around all this time! He opened the last fold, and there, perfectly pressed, lay one of her Moon Flowers. “She tried so hard to force me to do what she wanted, and for far too long she succeeded. I’m sorry, Ari. So sorry that I wasn’t able to stop it from the beginning.”

Ari’elle’s eyes flew up to his, saw the misery and the sorrow burning him inside. “Corypheus said she is possessed with a demon of Obedience.” Ari’elle shook her head, wishing she could make his pain disappear. “You couldn’t have known. None of us could have known.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “It is still very difficult for me to remember it all, but I can now. It was like I was locked away, watching my actions through a cloud bank that I could not breech.” He folded her letter back, and slipped it safely within once more. “Obedience. That makes sense. She would command me to do something, and I would do it. Sometimes I could break through for moments… 

A pang tore through her. Poor Cullen! How awful. That sounded worse than anything she could imagine. He had been aware during it? Stuck within his own body and unable to control his own actions? Cullen was not one to sit idly by; it would have been the worst sort of torment for him. She shivered despite the warm temperature, aching to hold him, to offer comfort. She rubbed her arms instead; she was still unsure if he would receive her touch.

Warm knuckles brushed her chin, gently tilting her face up, his eyes roving over her face. “Most of the time I felt what she wanted me to feel, did what she wanted me to do. But even deep in her clutches, there were some things I refused to do.” Ari’elle’s lips parted, her heart thundering. “She told me to hate you, but I wouldn’t. She told me to kiss her, desire her, and I couldn’t.” 

Ari’elle swallowed hard, her trembling increased. She felt hot and cold all over. Oh Creators, she believed him. She could hear the purity of his words in his voice, growing stronger as he continued. He had no mask up, was hiding nothing from her. Ari’elle licked her lips, her breath coming faster. He hadn’t wanted Evangelina? Despite being enchanted with whatever demon magic she had imposed on him? 

Cullen’s voice softened, but none of the potency left his voice. “She commanded me to love her, but it wasn’t possible. Because I was already in love with you.” 

Ari’elle lost all air, “You love me?” She whispered, her world tilting on its axis. She suddenly felt dizzy, giddy, unable to think.

Warmth shone from him, a soft smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, amber glowing down at her. He moved his palm, cupping her face tenderly. “I love you.”

Ari’elle squealed, springing into motion. She jumped, her arms flying around his neck and squeezing him tight. Cullen laughed, the rumble of it vibrating through her own body as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in close. A mixture of laughter and tears was pouring from her. Euphoria, wonder, sheer joy filled all the sad, cold spots hiding in her heart, and Ari’elle held on tightly to her human whom she loved and who loved her.

Somehow they ended up on the ground, Ari’elle sitting in Cullen’s lap. She kept her arms locked around him, loath to let him go. For long moments they stayed where they were, Ari’elle savoring the real feel of him, the heady scent of his skin. Cullen seemed just as content to remain, one hand rubbing her back while the other gripped her waist. 

Ari’elle’s sniff was watery when she finally pulled back, her hands coming up to feel his stubbled cheeks. “You love me.” She said wonderingly, savoring his look, the one that made her tingle all over. 

“I love you,” He nodded, gently brushing away the tears on her cheeks. That look, Ari’elle realized, was love. She bit her lip, trying to hold her smile.

“You’re sure?” She asked, threading her fingers through his hair, a mischievous light in her eyes.

Cullen chuckled, shaking his head at her fondly. “I’m sure. How could I not?” He pressed his lips to her cheek. “You are so filled with joy,” he moved and kissed her other cheek, “and goodness.” He kissed her forehead, “And funny.” Each trait was sealed with a kiss, giggles bubbling up from inside her. “Playful, beautiful, compassionate, a natural born temptress, steadfast, loyal…”

Ari’elle couldn’t contain herself anymore, laughing as her heart was filled, bursting with happiness. “Enough Cullen! I get it! You love me!” 

He nodded, merriment twinkling in his brown eyes, sharing her amusement. “I really do.” 

Ari’elle licked her lips and wrapped her arms around his neck again, raising herself up to his lips. “And I love you,” she breathed, just before she kissed him. 

Their kiss was slow, languid. Unhurried brushes of velvet skin and drags of tongue, little sips followed by leisurely exploration. It was relearning each other, savoring the realness of their love’s bodies, touch, taste after so long of only having their imagination. Constant ripples of warmth flowed through Ari’elle’s frame, her skin tingling with sensation. Each brush of Cullen’s mouth made her heart fill more, her chest too small to contain how large it had become. Surely she would burst from the happiness. 

She sighed contentedly, a miracle that they had made it this far. But there was a sadness dawning in her as she realized something. “I’m going to miss you horribly when I am gone.”

Cullen frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I’ll be away for a long time, closing Rifts.” She dropped her forehead against his shoulder, sighing even deeper. “It will be so lonely without you.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Ari’elle’s head popped back up, gaping up at him, “Cullen! You can’t! You’re the Inquisitor!”

His jaw set, he shook his head, “And I can be the Inquisitor while traveling with you. Besides, there is still much to settle around Thedas, I can be just as effective fighting from the front lines as I can be sequestered away in Skyhold.”

Ari’elle shook her head, a slow smile creeping back over her face, “You can do that?”

He shrugged, “I already sent word to Leliana and Josephine. If anything drastic comes up, and I have to be at Skyhold, then I will have to make the trip. But I’m going with you, Ari. I almost lost you once. I’m not going to let it come even close to happening again.”

“Oh, Cullen,” Ari’elle breathed, tears springing to her eyes again. She kissed his cheek, “You are the most thoughtful,” She moved to his other cheek, following the pattern he had performed on her, “Amazing.” She moved again, feeling him smile, “Brave, kind, handsome, commanding-“ Cullen chuckled before he caught her face between his hands and kissed her deeply.

This time, the kiss was different, intense and affirming instead of slow. Ari’elle crowded in close to Cullen’s body, pressing her breasts against his chest, grasping onto his shoulders. Cullen bit at her lip, suckling her _vallaslin_ then soothing it with a sweep of his tongue. He held her firmly, and she was overcome. 

He licked inside, tangling his tongue with her. Deep kisses, stealing her breath away with the hunger she felt. The hunger he showed her. Ari’elle moaned, loving the feel of him after her fears of never being able to touch him again. She returned the fervor, kissed him back, suckling whatever he let her. A glow built in her core, heated her up with each powerful drive. Ari’elle’s nipples pearled, the friction from her clothing not enough. Tension coiled in her belly, and she rocked on his lap, groaning as she felt him hardening, bumping against her clit. 

Abruptly Cullen pulled away, panting. He shook his head and closed his eyes, dropping his forehead against hers. “Maybe we should go back now.” His voice was throaty, as affected as she was.

“Go back?” Ari’elle almost wined, her pout push out her lip. “But why?” She nipped his chin, licking at the rough scratch of hair, “Don’t you want to keep going?” 

Cullen groaned, rolling his hips up into her, stroking his erection against her, “You can feel that I do.” He sighed and looked down at her, his brows drawn in remorse. “But I have so much to make up for, I think it would be best to take things slow, show you my atonement. I haven’t even come close to conveying it. I’m so sorry, my sweet, for all that I did.”

Oh, Ari’elle realized, the slight panic she had been feeling disappearing. He felt guilty still. She smiled tenderly, using her fingers to trace the lines on his face. “Cullen, you were under a spell.”

He shook his head, countenance unchanged. “I should have fought harder, should have been stronger.” He swallowed, anguish a low rasp in his voice. “I should never have treated you that way. I’m sorry Ari. I didn’t want to, and yet I allowed her to…”

“Hey,” she shook his shoulders gently, “You broke through it, right?” Cullen nodded curtly, his jaw rigid, the deep shadows beneath his eyes even starker. “And you immediately set off to rescue me, right?” He nodded again. “Would you ever fall back under her spell?”

“No!” Cullen almost shouted the affirmation. “No, I wouldn’t. She tried, after I finally figured it out, with the help of your flowers. But I wouldn’t let her get ahold of me anymore.”

“Well, there you go.” She dimpled up to him, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You broke through, and you will never fall under the spell again.” She kissed the other side, then his dashing scar, just for good measure. “And you saved me. I wouldn’t have survived Corypheus and his men without your aid.” She pulled back and stared into the warm honey of his eyes. “Saving my life buys you quite a lot of good will, you know,” she said with a gentle smirk.

“Don’t remind me,” he shuddered, cuddling her close again. “Racing after you… it felt like we were moving through molasses. Far too slow. And if it weren’t for your Keeper Solas…” He shivered, arms banding her to his chest. 

“But it all worked out,” Ari’elle soothed, rubbing her hands along his back. “We are here now, together, and I want to make the most of it.” 

Cullen was still frowning, his hesitation clear. So Ari’elle took a page from his playbook. She smiled slowly, sensually, letting all the desire she felt for him show on her face. Then she leaned up to his ear and whispered, “I want this Cullen. I want to feel your skin against my skin, nothing between us. I want to know that it is just you and me. I want to feel your love, want you to feel mine. I’m wet Cullen, achy and empty. I want you inside of me, moving.” Cullen shuddered out a breath, not drawing another in. “Not your fingers or your tongue. I want your cock inside of me,” she slowly licked the shell of his ear, and he snapped. 

With a growl, Cullen grabbed her around her waist and rolled. Ari’elle gave a breathless laugh, heady power filling her as she sprawled in the grass. Dark hunger was stamped on his handsome face, and she quirked her eyebrows at him, pleased it had worked so well. Pleased, and turned on, another wave of desire crashing over her at the need she read in his eyes. 

“Ari, are you sure? I’ve wanted this for,” he shuddered out a breath, a curl falling over his forehead. “A long time. I don’t think I would be able to stop.”

Ari’elle lifted her hands to his shirt, tugging the material from his pants. “You would if I asked, but I am more than sure.” She reared up, kissing him. “I love you.” 

Their tongues tangled as Cullen worked on her clothes as she worked on his. Within moments Ari’elle shimmied from her pants, her torso already bared. Cullen leaned back, the moonlight lovingly burnishing all his skin silver and Ari’elle traced the scars, circled his belly button, walked her fingers down to where he was struggling with the last fasteners of his trousers. 

Jerkily, he got them open, and Arielle helped him peel them down his rock hard thighs, his erection straining from his body. Ari’elle wrapped her hand around the velvet length, slowly moving her hand up and down, flicking her gaze between his cock and the pleasure on his face. 

Cullen slowly let out a breath as he leaned forward and guided her back down to the grass, kicking off his pants the rest of the way. His big palms moved over her body slowly, feeling her skin, each bump of her ribs, each soft curve. He was reverent, she thought in a heated daze, and she laid her head back, her eyes closed as she soaked up the affection she could feel. He plucked at her nipples, beading them and brushing little circles around them. She felt each movement down in her core, echoes of heat, a prelude to what she wanted. 

Her fingers moved along his shape, teasing hints that whet his appetite even more. “You keep that up,” he licked along her neck, open mouth suckles and scrapes of his teeth sending shivers down her spine, “And I won’t last long enough to enjoy this.”

Ari’elle laughed, and she wrapped her hand around him more firmly, giving him a long, slow tug. His hips surged into her hands, cockhead brushing against her belly. His groan pulsed through the air, and he nipped at the soft skin under her chin. 

“That’s it,” he reared back and tilted her face up to him. His mouth crashed down on hers, tongue and lips stealing the breath from her. Stealing her senses, her mind drifting in the physical sensations he conjured in her. Her hand slackened, and Cullen grabbed both of her wrists, bringing them above her head and shackling them there. 

He pulled away with a lingering suck of her lip, and Ari’elle whimpered, tried to follow his gifted mouth, but she couldn’t break from the power of his hands. His knees locked hers in place, keeping her from moving her legs any more than sliding against each other. He lifted his chest away, and she arched, trying to touch him, but unable to get any play. 

“Please Cullen!” She panted, his dark satisfaction thrilling her, made her wetter, “Touch me!”

His hands flexed around her wrists, smirk spreading wider. “I am touching you.” Her mouth watered to taste his scar, tongue the silky curve of that look as it sat so well on his lips. She played at her _vallaslin_ with her teeth, just like she knew he liked. His eyes caught on the dark lines, the smirk dropping away slightly as his attention fixed on her mouth. 

Then her hands were held by only one of his, Cullen moving so quickly she didn’t notice. He braced his elbow on the ground, dropping his chest closer to her. “Touch you like this?” He breathed, his lips just out of range. He extended his tongue, the tip just brushing the single line on her upper lip, before he pulled it back. It was whisper light, almost as if he hadn’t touched her at all except for the tingling heat branded there.  
“More,” she groaned, fixated on his mouth. He smirked again, but ignored her entreaty.

His finger touched the arrow of her vallaslin, tracing down her nose, his thumb brushing across her swollen lips, catching at the plumpness. Ari’elle sucked the only part of him she could reach, flicking her tongue at the tip as she suckled. But he didn’t linger, following his path down her chin, down her throat.

She struggled against his grasp, tried to break free. She could see the muscles working in his arms, the beautiful ripple as he held her effortlessly. She grew hotter at the sight, hotter at the display of his strength. She wanted to sink her nails into the cut reliefs, grab at his shoulders, hold onto his upper arms, drag her fingers down ever delicious ridge.

“Or like this?” He flattened his palm and drew it between her breasts, deliberately slow and not actually touching her breasts or where her nipples cried out for attention, tight in the evening air. She surged, watching as best she could, loving the look of his tanned, big hand on her pale skin. Desperately she wiggled, tried to get him to move to her breasts. She puffed out her yes, shifting her hips to stimulate herself, a very weak relief. He watched her face, and shook his head. 

“No?” he asked in mock surprise, knowing full well that was the opposite of what she had said. “How about down here?” His hand rotated, fingers dipping into her belly button. A throb of heat made her hips buck, a gasp rushing from her, dropping her head for a second before she quickly raised it again, her eyes trained on his hand. She didn’t want to miss a second of this slow, exquisite torture. 

“Cullen,” she whined, shifting as best she could, trying to rock herself up to where his hand was slowly, far too slowly, inching its way down her belly. 

“Or perhaps, you want me to touch you here?” His voice was lower, watching her body move, not unaffected by what she was doing, by what he was doing. Lightly, teasingly, his fingers brushed her lower lips, and Ari’elle keened. 

“Yes,” she cried out, desperate for his touch. Slowly he moved his whole palm down, so he was cupping her sex, but he did not part her, did not dip into the wetness he had caused. 

“Maker,” He cursed, “I can feel how hot you are for me.” He growled, his cock jerking between their bodies, and his teeth found the sensitive tip of her ear, kissing it. 

Ari’elle surged again, rubbing her hips against his hand as best she could. The pressure stimulated her more than anything she had done yet, passion rolling through her, but it was not enough. Desperately she moved faster, and slowly she could feel the coiling heat building in her core. She arched, trying to catch his lips, but Cullen kept just beyond her reach. 

She leveled to a plateau where no matter how much she moved, she couldn’t reach the climax that was simmering within her. It was just out of reach, and she almost sobbed with how badly she wanted him. “Cullen,” she pleaded huskily, jerking her arms against his grip. “Please!”

Broken sounds escaped from her as she futilely struggled more, but he held her firm; his thighs trapping her down, callused hands holding her in place. She was so aroused even the silky hairs on his legs stimulated her sensitive skin, driving her crazy. Ari’elle arched again and cried out, “Fuck me, Cullen! Please!”

He froze, the noise he made a verbal defeat, and anticipation burst through her. Cullen finally moved his legs, splitting her thighs apart. His uneven breath played over her ear, and she moaned in excitement. He was finally going to do it! She wrapped her now free legs around his hips, lifting herself up and brushing against his cock, but it was the wrong angle. A small amount of pre-come smeared across her belly, and she cried out in frustration.

“Ari, just,” Cullen groaned, grabbed her hip and settled her back down to the ground. He released her wrists and immediately she grabbed onto his shoulders, bringing herself up to his mouth, twining her tongue with his. “Must prepare you.” He panted out, but Ari’elle hardly heard him. He reached back down, and finally parted her swollen lips.

She cried out at the first touch of his fingers against her clit, pleasure tingling up her spine. Cullen groaned as he shifted his fingers down and dipped into her wetness, feeling how ready she was for him even without his preparation. But he was undeterred, and he slipped a finger inside. He pressed in slowly, knowing that he had entered her with fingers before, but this time was different. She couldn’t feel pain from this; it would break him if he hurt her any further.

So slowly, oh so slowly, Cullen pushed and pulled, feeling her desperately clench around him. He added a second finger, and Ari’elle was exquisitely aware of the movement, her hips rocking as much as he would allow her to. “Cullen,” she moaned, sliding one knee along his hip, “More.”

He swallowed hard, then slowly worked in a third finger. Ari’elle felt the delicious stretching, the invasion almost what she wanted, but not quite there. Cullen eased in and out, his fingers gently brushing against that spot inside her with each pass, but not pressing. She couldn’t keep her eyes open, blinking to catch little glimpses of his face, the intense desire as he watched himself work his fingers inside her, the erotic play of his hand between her thighs. She was wet, still so wet, the speed he picked was not enough, his fingers not enough, and Cullen was deliberately avoiding too much stimulation. 

Her begging fell on deaf ears, Cullen shaking his head periodically, expression strained. Finally, Ari’elle could not stand it anymore and she grabbed his cock again. She moved her hand on him at the same too slow speed he was inflicting on her. “Cullen, I’m dying. Give me everything,” she moaned out, demanding.

Cullen shuddered and withdrew his fingers. He wrapped his slick hand around himself, gently dislodging her grasp. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Ari’elle watched down her body as Cullen lifted one of her legs and pulled it up and out. She felt her lower lips part, cool air tingling against where she burned. 

“Look at you,” his voice pure gravel as he stared down at her. “Wet, open for me. Pink and pouty and so delicious,” he licked his lips, and Ari’elle swore she could feel his tongue move along her cleft. Cullen shifted, and he finally brushed his cock through her wetness, blunt head bumping against her entrance. 

“Yes,” she gasped, eyes slamming shut. Just the feel of him gently probing at her core sent her temperature soaring, and she knew she wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Ari,” He growled, “look at me.” Hazily she opened her eyes and met his gaze, saw the naked desire blowing his pupils wide, how taught his features were. But there was also love blazing from him, an affection she shared in equal measures. “Thank you,” he breathed, and kissed her. 

At the same time, he slowly pushed inside. The both groaned at the feel, sharing breaths as Cullen pulled out a tiny ways and pushed back in. He moved in this way, coating himself in her wetness and sliding in a little bit more each time. She yielded easily, undulating at the feel of being filled, whole. Of being stretched, all the muscles that had been clamping down on nothing finally grasping his cock. And it was glorious. They were finally one.

With one last shuddering push, Cullen was seated fully inside. He held himself still, breathing hard and trying to catch his breath as Ari’elle continued to shift and tighten around him. He shook his head and dropped down to her chest, sucking at one nipple then the other. Ari’elle cried out, fingers sinking into his curls. Each time he sucked, he rolled his hips, grinding inside her, finally rubbing her clit. 

She burned up with sensation. She loved all the other things that they had done together, but this was… everything. All of it wrapped together in one. Powerful, addicting, and she rapidly raced to the cliff’s edge. With a scream, Ari’elle dove out into the stars, climaxing and soaring through the waves of pleasure cresting through her.

“Oh, fucking Maker,” Cullen cursed, clenching his teeth so hard he felt his jaw would break. He tore fistfuls of grass as he fought to keep himself from pounding into Ari’elle, her climax flowing and squeezing around him. Sweat beading on his forehead as he scrapped at the last of his willpower, desperate to not lose control. Slowly Ari’elle came down, trembling and breathless. He surged his hips once, and she moaned again as it triggered a minor tremor to pulse through her again.

Ari’elle languidly opened her eyes, still keenly aware of where Cullen’s cock jerked inside her, insistent and in no way done. He held himself rigidly, eyes closed, barely breathing. A satisfied smirk played on her lips, and she brought her hands to his mouth, tracing his open lips, feeling his panting exhalations. “Creators Cullen,” she whispered, “That was… amazing.”

His eyes popped open, his hunger so intense it sent a frisson through her. “Perfect,” he growled, and he let himself go. His hands snapped to her hips, lifting them for a better angle, raising himself onto his knees. One hand wrapped around her hips, the other slamming to the ground beside her head, and he finally pulled out, leaving just the tip inside of her. His hips pressed back in, and Ari’elle gasped at the thrusting sensation, blunt head of him dragging along her still sensitive ridges. He growled, teeth bared, watching where his cock slowly slid worked into her faster and faster. 

Each powerful thrust pushed the air from her lungs, thumping sensations perfectly synched with his. The pleasure she had thought was dissipating built rapidly again, and she groaned constantly. Sweat dripped from Cullen, beads splashing on her breasts, the cooler air making her nipples bead even harder, crying out for attention. She palmed her breasts, her fingers too soft, not like his, but loving as each twist caused more sparks to spiral down to her core.

Cullen reared back, grabbing both of her hips, fingers digging into her skin. He slammed into her, his thrusts growing tighter, more uncontrolled. Ari’elle cried out as this angle made him drive directly against a spot inside of her. She arched, pushing into him as much as possible, feeling him grow even harder, bigger. 

Cullen brought his fingers to her clit and rubbed furiously. It was the last straw for her, and her arms dropped lax, a scream tearing from her as this climax tore through her, just as powerful as her last. Cullen felt her rippling squeezes along his length, and his hips stuttered, restraint breaking, and he roared. His orgasm strung him taught, hips jerking as he spilled inside her. Pleasure blanked his mind, the only thing staying with him that he and Ari’elle had come at the same time. Together.

Ari’elle was boneless, unable to move as Cullen slowly came to his senses, hips still moving feebly in her warmth, chasing the last wrings of pleasure. His breaths were raw as he panted, slowly sliding down so that they were chest to chest. He carefully worked his hands under her and with a groan rolled so he was on his back, Ari’elle splayed across his chest.

She mumbled sleepily, after-tingles racing through her as he shifted, pulling from her. Her head lay on his chest, listening to his racing heart slowly calm, feeling his breathes even out. She was exhausted and she knew that Cullen must be too. She could feel slumber dragging her down, but there was one last thing she needed to do.

She took a few bracing breaths, then heaved her body up. Cullen opened his eyes partially, his features relaxed, looking very satisfied and happy. Carefully she placed her lips on his, kissing him tenderly, adoringly. “I love you, vhenan.”

Golden warmth blazed up at her, her heart again so full it almost hurt. Softly he brought a hand up and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek, cupping her jaw and brushing his thumb along her lower lip. “I love you too, Ari.”

She kissed him again, softly. A bubble of laughter broke from her and Cullen quirked his brows, his smile never leaving his face. “What’s so funny?”

“Do you know,” she punctuated her words with little pecks along his jaw, “That we have come full circle?”

“Oh yeah?” His other hand settled on her waist, drawing little wandering figures along her skin. 

“This is where I was just before I saw you for the first time, watching the Moon Flowers open. I heard your voice, the fighting, and I raced to you.”

Cullen’s affectionate amusement was obvious, and he lazily shook his head in mock exasperation. “Of course you did. You are fearless.”

She grinned impishly. “I fell in love with you there, as you put your men first. As you stood against demons, strong and brave, fearless yourself.” 

He leaned up, kissing her, then collapsed back with a sigh. “I’m not sure when I fell in love with you.” His eyes took on a distant quality, remembering. “You tormented me first, drove me out of my mind with lust.” Ari’elle smirked, but let him continue. “Before I knew it, I looked for you everywhere, wanted to talk to you all the time. I would wonder what you would say, or how you would react.” He shook his head, “You were so fascinating to me, even from the beginning, I should have known it was only a matter of time before you stole my heart.”

Emotion pulled tears to her eyes, sent one skimming down her cheek. She was overwhelmed, unable to do anything more than kiss him with all the love she felt. 

Wordlessly she settled back down against his chest, and together they sighed. Ari’elle could scarcely believe that her grand adventure had led her here, to this moment, with Cullen’s arms around her, languid from their love. She breathed deeply, and the delicate perfume of the Moon Flower wafting through the air. She smiled as she fell asleep, knowing that she and Cullen would have so many more adventures ahead of them.

***

High above their heads, four snowy white owls swooped in on silent wings. The alighted on a branch, big yellow eyes staring down at the couple now asleep in the moonlight. They tilted their heads, seeing more than what was there evident, looking deep into the bright souls glowing with happiness, knowing things would be alright for the two bound together. 

They departed one by one, silently disappearing once more into the moonlit night.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my gosh, I cannot believe it is over. I'm so emotional about wrapping up this story. I'm not crying, you're crying! I hope that the ending was everything you could have wished for. I loved Ari's and Cullen's story, and I hope you have enjoyed the telling of it! 
> 
> Thank you so much to you all, the encouragement has been overwhelming and so loving. I cannot begin to express my gratitude!
> 
> Now, I am not going to be idle! I am stuck between two stories that I have planned, and no idea which one to tell first. One is a Regency Thedas/Aladdin AU, and the other is an Alternative Thedas/Anastasia AU! I am going to put the first chapter of both stories up, and whichever story recieves the most hits/kudos/comments and Tumblr likes/shares will be the story I continue to write first! I plan on getting them both down at some point, though! Look for those new stories in the coming week!
> 
> Again, thank you so much everyone. <3 Love to you all

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [At the Stroke of Midnight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7165559) by [sewluscious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewluscious/pseuds/sewluscious)




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